


Hero of Ishval

by YAJJ



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Heavy Language, Ishvalan Elric au, Preseries, War Themes, and having a big brother should be, big brother roy, in which Ed finds out what being a little brother is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 01:59:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 48,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12643842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YAJJ/pseuds/YAJJ
Summary: There are many reasons that Roy Mustang is known as the Hero of Ishval. But the very first reason is one that most people in the military don't even know about.





	1. Chapter 1

_The men came into the district, all with not-red eyes and not-white hair but not without an intent to kill._

_“No!” screamed a boy, standing before his mother and little brother because there was no father to protect them, not anymore, and the boy refused to listen to his mother when she said to get back. “Stay away! You dirty Amestrians don’t belong here, go back to your cities! Leave Mom alone!”_

_“Oh?” said the man with the long hair and the grey eyes. “Little Ishvalan scum has a little life to him, does he?”_

_“Don’t call me little!” said the boy with fire in his eyes._

_“I wonder… how quickly can we drain the life from you? You’re coming with me!”_

_The little Ishvalan boy was dragged away from his mother’s arms like a common criminal, dragged kicking and screaming through the district, and loaded onto a truck._

_None of the Ishvalans could stop the man who made explosions from his palms, most were too frightened to try. The only one who did, the mother, quickly had a gun pointed to her forehead and had to be held back by her fellow countrymen. The truck drove off, a child still calling for his mother from the back while his mother cried for him._

_“ZEDEKIAH!!!”_

* * *

Chapter 1

* * *

When Roy Mustang was 18, and he joined the Military Academy, his naivety had him dreaming glorious dreams about going to war. Yes, people died he knew, but they died with honor, fighting for their people and their country. He had never really dreamed of becoming a war hero (although some nights the thought would flash through his mind for a fraction of a moment), but he dreamed of going to war and returning alive.

His foolish self, of course, had never experienced the true horror of war, all the blood and death. He had been surrounded by war all his life—the military was in at least one almost every day of the year for the past fifty years. It was something that most everyone was a part of in one way or another, and the military was the biggest employer in all of Amestris, so imagining himself in the military wasn’t so odd or unnatural. There wasn’t one boy or girl that he knew of that didn’t imagine that in one way or another, they would be part of a war.

Even imagining being in the military, his thoughts could never come close to the real thing.

Death was in the air, death and dying, at all hours. He feared his enemies, he feared his comrades.

He feared himself.

This was why Master Hawkeye hadn’t wanted to share the secret of flame alchemy with him. Somehow, Master Hawkeye had known the ruin that Roy would bring with a snap of his fingers.

“Yo! Mustang! Move your ass!”

Roy kicked at the desert sand beneath his feet, heat bearing down on his neck relentlessly. He looked toward the voice—Hughes was hailing him forward. It was mealtime, they were just returned from a mission in one of the southern districts, and even though he was damn hungry, he didn’t even want to think of eating.

“What do you want, Hughes?”

Hughes, Roy’s academy buddy and longtime rival, jerked his head toward the wash station. Roy rolled his eyes, assuming a new batch of nurses or some such nonsense had come in. Hughes was happily taken, but he never hesitated to attempt to set up Roy, or one of the others in their squad. The man made sport out of watching them fail, Roy was sure of it.

Still. Hughes was obnoxious when someone paid him attention, but _worse_ when they ignored him. He walked slowly to the man, glancing at whatever had caught Hughes’ attention.

A crowd of men surrounded one of the flagpoles, all of them jeering and laughing. Roy sneered at them; that was rarely anything good.

“What do you think they got ahold of, a nice t-bone?” Hughes wondered loftily, turning to Roy.

“I don’t know, man, I was on the same mission as you. Come on. If they’re all busy with this, I bet the line’s clear and we get first pick.”

Hughes grinned and laughed, hooked an arm around Roy, and lead him toward the mess.

* * *

Roy and Hughes beat a hasty retreat when the mess started filling. Most of the men had appeared to grow bored of whatever had kept their attention, and now wanted to appease their angry stomachs. Hughes carried a napkin full of what could best be called dry gruel. It was the sort of junk you could only stomach a little at a time; Roy hadn’t been able to finish his, and it got too crowded for Hughes to finish. They chatted as they walked—well, _Hughes_ chatted, while Roy walked alongside and listened halfheartedly.

Roy glanced back to the flagpole as they walked past, the same place all those men had been crowding around earlier. A few remained, but most had disappeared into the mess. Somewhere near the ground there was a red swatch of fabric and a little foot, but Roy couldn’t make much out of that. Some of the guys made a habit of bullying some of the younger ones. Maybe they had got ahold of some poor bastard who made some small mistake. It wouldn’t be the first time.

There were some quick words from the crowd, words that he didn’t recognize and when he glanced at Hughes, he found that he hadn’t either. He knew some of the others spoke Aerugan, Cretan, or even the occasional Drachman—since they were surrounded on all sides by these great nations, it made sense for _someone_ on their side to speak it.  It was possible that it was one of those who spoke foreign tongue being tormented, but Roy doubted it. Some of those words sounded sort of like Xingese.

Then, a loud call, a sharp cry, and a child’s voice: “ _No, No!! Mama!!_ ”

Beside him, Hughes stiffened, his eyes narrowing, and Roy felt a shudder pass through him. What was a child doing here? No one in their right mind would sneak their child into the middle of an active warzone. The only other possibility was—

Yes, they realized as they approached. A little, Ishvalan child. No more than six.

It was a boy, very small. He had shaggy white hair and piercing red eyes, skin darker than the sand around them. He was covered in a red shawl, and wore no shoes on his little feet. His eyes darted all over the place, looking for an escape, but Roy quickly realized that the poor child had been bound to the flagpole.

What the hell was he doing here?

“Awww, what’s the matter, you baby? Are you gonna _cryyyy_ for your _mooommmyyyyy_? Go ahead, see if she can hear you.”

Oh, and of course, why was Roy not surprised? Solf J. Kimblee, the truest psychopath in the entire military, was leading the show.

The kid blinked his eyes hard and sniffed hugely, swallowing back any tears that were left. He looked like he was trying damn hard not to cry—like he was trying to be stronger than Kimblee, stronger than what was happening.

“Kimblee,” Roy said, grabbing the Crimson Alchemist’s shoulder and tearing him from his victim. “Leave him alone, he’s just a kid.”

Kimblee tore his shoulder from Roy’s hand, glaring at him. “What do you want, sand-fucker? You’re apart of this war too, what’s one _brat_ to you?” Kimblee scuffed his boot into the sand, kicking some up right into the kid’s face. The boy squeezed his eyes shut in a vain attempt to stop the sand from getting into his eyes, grimacing and turning away.

Roy scoffed, but didn’t otherwise react to the insult. He’d been called it before, and it had stopped affecting him. It first started in the military academy, when he’d been surrounded by people hardly out of high school (if they had even gone) who were still practically children. He came to the aide of his now-friend Heathcliff Erbe, and from then on, became known as a sand-fucker—an Ishvalan sympathizer.

If the opposite of being a ‘sand-fucker’, was being Kimblee, then he didn’t mind being a sand-fucker at all.

“Where did you get the kid? He doesn’t belong here.”

“Plucked the brat fresh from his mommy’s arms. He had a couple things to say, and I wanted to, uh…” Kimblee laughed, “teach him about his betters.”

“His _betters_? Who do you think—”

“Mustang! Kimblee!”

Roy flinched and glanced over his shoulder to see a general approaching looking unamused. Roy and Hughes snapped into a salute, and with a little reluctance, Kimblee did too. General Raven inspected the boy bound to the flagpole, then ignored him and turned on the two soldiers. “What are you doing, lollygagging?  If you’ve got time to start arguments, you’ve got time to clear the ten o’clockers for a lunch break. March! Both of you!”

Mustang scowled inwardly but kept his face impressively blank. Seven o’clock guard. Was there _anything_ less interesting? He glanced down to the kid, who glared all around at everyone he could see, offering no warmth or anything. Roy smirked to himself just a little. He was quite the kid. “Yes, sir.”

* * *

 

Once night rolled around, the entire camp fell into almost total silence. The only ones still awake and about were the night guards, who only watched the perimeter and had no care for the happenings inside its borders, and the boy, who was silent with his tormentors no longer about.

It was this fact alone that allowed Roy to sneak out of his tent at half past pain-in-the-ass o’clock, canteen around his neck and napkin of not-so-goodies in hand. His tent wasn’t far from the flagpole, so it only took ten silent seconds to creep across the camp to the little boy.

He couldn’t, in his heart, leave this boy to his fate. He knew that no one had fed the poor thing, or even let him off to relieve himself, and no one had tried to shade him from the unrelenting desert sun. If he wasn’t sunstroked when Roy got to him, he would be surprised.

“Kid. Hey… _kid_ , wake up,” Roy said under his breath, crouching beside the boy. The kid’s neck was craned awkwardly forward, like he had fallen asleep like that. He had reason to suspect that the kid wasn’t asleep at all, but he didn’t want to startle him.

Indeed, the kid quickly shot his head up, eyes bleary. He pressed back against the flagpole and glared at him weakly. “Go away.”

Roy chuckled a little and sat beside him, crossing his legs to try and appear as friendly as possible. The poor kid had had enough fright in this place. “You won’t say that when you see what I’ve got for you.”

That piqued the kid’s interest for a moment, nervous curiosity flooding into those crimson depths. He flickered his eyes from the ground up to Roy, lowered his head to his toes, then hesitantly wondered, “...what?”

“Shh, you have to stay quiet. We could both get in trouble if we’re not careful. Are you hungry?”

The boy nodded blearily, and Roy knew with the flush in his cheeks that this was true. He was probably starving. He didn’t know when the kid had been collected, but it was probably at least since then when he last ate.

Roy set the napkin down in front of the kid, revealing its contents. It wasn’t the best stuff, and if he had better he’d give it to him, but it really was all he had for today, and he couldn’t go stealing rations, not just for a little kid. “Here. Open your mouth.”

“Do…” The kid coughed and opened his mouth, licking his dry lips. “D’you have any water…? Please…”

“They… haven’t even given you water? All day?”

“No…” the boy croaked. “You have some, right?”

Roy’s heart constricted for a moment, then he sighed and stooped his head, grabbing for the strap of his canteen. “Yeah. I have some. Move your head away from the pole.”

The boy did, so Roy unscrewed the canteen and cupped his head. He pressed the canteen to his lips and tilted back. Water spilled from the corners of his lips, but he didn’t seem to mind, drinking greedily. When the canteen was pulled away, he licked at the water on his face.

“Ready for food?”

“Yeah.” The boy opened his mouth as he had asked earlier, and Roy patiently fed him everything that Hughes, bless his soul, had saved.

The night passed on in silence while Roy stayed by the boy’s side. He noticed halfway through what barely constituted a meal that the kid was shivering mightily. The kid must have been freezing cold after he spent all day burning to a crisp in the sun, and then hastily being introduced to the chill of the night air. Whatever skin was burnt, which had to be everything exposed, had to be horribly irritated.

“Are you cold?”

The boy shivered again, and through the shiver Roy noticed a very small nod. Yeah, the poor kid had to be freezing.

He slowly unbuttoned his jacket and slid it off his shoulders, pulling it around to lay over the boy. His little naked toes stuck out of the bottom, but he wiggled around a little and crossed his legs beneath the fabric, covering his chilled toes.

“...Thank you,” he said. His voice sounded better now that he got some water in him, at least. More like a kid and less like a decrepit old person.

Roy shrugged awkwardly; he had never been good at taking thanks and he doubted that he ever would be. “Sure,” he said, finding his feet. The kid was taken care of, at least, and Roy couldn’t do anything more for him without running the risk of getting in trouble. He could check on him again in the morning.

“W— _wait_!” the boy cried when Roy stood, looking up at him with nervous red eyes. When Roy looked back, he looked down to his feet, as if he was ashamed of his outburst.

“...What?”

“Don’t…” The kid struggled with his reservations for a moment, kicking at the fabric of the coat. “Don’t go.”

Roy stood by, blinked once, twice, three times. He didn’t know… what to say. An Ishvalan kid asking an Amestrian soldier to stay by him? He supposed that he had only been mistreated since he had arrived, and Roy was probably the first friendly face he’d seen all day.

But he didn't really have much of a choice. He was already pushing it, being out here past night bell without direct orders. He couldn’t stay out here much longer without facing possible consequences.

He opened his mouth to respond truthfully— _I have to, I can’t stay, go to sleep, you’ll be fine—_ just in time for the child to whisper, “please, please don’t go.  Please don’t leave me alone. The other soldiers, they’ll come back, they don’t like me. They… they _hurt me_ and _spit on me_ , and what if they come back and do it again? Please…”

Roy felt each separate word like a slap to the face, and looking to his face, desperate and frightened but willing to trust him, might as well have been a sucker punch. Roy had always been a sucker for the underdog, a sucker for kids like this one. He was no good with them—being raised in a brothel didn’t help matters, especially since when he _did_ go to school, he stuck out like a sore thumb because of his slanted eyes and his upbringing, and it set him very far from kids his own age—but that didn’t stop him from sympathizing with them, from wanting to protect them and from never wanting to see the _exact face this little boy was making_ …

He cursed to himself, quietly enough the child didn’t hear. His mind was made up before he was even aware of it. And screw anyone who said even a word of it in the morning.

He turned back to his tent without a word to the boy. If he was going to be sitting outside all night long, he might as well make himself comfortable, make it more bearable.

He collected his sleepsack and pillow, ignored the grunt of confusion from one of the bunks on the other side of the tent, and stepped back outside. He ignored all thoughts of foreboding and instead looked to the child, who looked even more defeated than before.  
Perhaps a word in before he left would have been good…

Oh well. Perhaps next time. It was too late now. He approached the boy who stared down at his toes, still cloaked in Roy’s blue jacket, and scuffed a little sand by him so he knew he was there.

The boy started and looking up to him, clearly expecting some sort of reprimand judging by the fright filling his eyes. The fear in them dulled and surprise flitted in when he recognized Roy again and saw the sack in his arms. He didn’t say a word when Roy turned and sat beside the boy, leaning as much of his shoulder into the pole as he dared, and he didn’t say a word when Roy shook out his sleep sack and laid it over both their laps, nor when he fitted his pillow behind him against the pole to act as a cushion.

In fact, he didn’t even say a word when Roy put his arm around the kid and told him, “go on to sleep, kid” and then leaned his head back like he would fall asleep right then.

The only other movement, then, that passed between them was when the boy, oh so cautiously, leaned his head into his companion’s side, and when Roy couldn’t fight back the smile in response.


	2. Chapter 2

Roy awoke before the sun rose, but that was nothing abnormal. His neck ached and his back was sore, not even to mention his backsides.  _ Everything _ hurt. 

Sand shifted beneath him with the stirring wind, and for a moment he was confused. He clearly wasn’t on his cot. So where…?

Beside him, something else shifted, and the heavy weight on his side moved a fraction. He started and looked to the side, seeing a shock of white hair and a very red shawl.

The boy! He’d fallen asleep by the kid so he could actually sleep, how could he forget? The kid was still fast asleep, mouth open a little as he slept against his side. 

Besides the occasional twitch, he looked almost completely at peace. He even seemed to be snoring a little, if Roy was hearing him right. 

Why did it… feel good, that a tiny Ishvalan boy felt comfortable enough to sleep  _ like that _ next to an Amestrian military man?

He gave the kid an extra minute or so to rest before deciding he had to get up. There were a couple soldiers making faces at him as they stepped from the bunks to the showers. He was going to hear shit from them, he knew—it always seemed to happen that way. 

Finally, he lifted his arm from around the kid and moved him off his chest cautiously. Despite how gentle he had been trying to be, the kid still stirred, snorted, and coughed, opening big crimson eyes. At first he started, and Roy saw panic and fear fill his eyes when he clearly didn't immediately recognize his surroundings. He whipped his head all around, attempting to gauge his location, but it was only when he turned up to look at Roy that he seemed to place it.

“...Oh.”

“Morning, kid,” Roy said,  trying to be as cheery as possible for a nervous kid. He wasn’t much for cheery, especially not right away in the morning, but if Roy was too grumpy it might upset the kid, and wasn’t he already upset enough? At least this could keep him moderately content until Roy returned in the evening and he could figure out what to do with him next. “Thirsty?”

The kid’s bright eyes darted between Roy’s face and the canteen around his neck nervously. After a short time, he nodded silently, dropping his eyes to the ground. Roy got the feeling that he wasn’t too thirsty now, but remembered yesterday and didn’t want to go without water from one night until the next. 

Roy moved his shoulder from behind the kid, who obligingly moved out of the way. He pulled the canteen from around his neck and uncapped it, bringing it forward. “Tilt your head back.”

The boy did, opening his mouth, and Roy slowly poured some water in until he had his fill. “I’ll see if I can bring you food before I go to work, okay? Just be good. Don’t upset anyone.”

The kid swallowed his water and scoffed under his breath, but didn’t say a word. He just turned his head down and away, without so much as a thank you. He wiggled when Roy pried his coat away, letting him take it without protest. 

Roy fit his coat back over his shoulders, shaking sand from its folds. The weight felt better on him—like he could become the Flame Alchemist like he was supposed to, not just Roy Mustang. He just needed his spark gloves to complete the look. “See you later, kid.”

The boy grunted something wordlessly, but didn’t say anything.  

Roy’s tent was not very far away from the boy. It was just a bit down the stretch, not even a twenty second walk. In the time that it took him, however, to walk from the pole to his tent, he was called a sand-fucker four times, a creep twice, and was informed that he “wasn’t allowed around his kids” by some moron two ranks below him. 

Whatever. Roy figured they could talk all they want. They could poke fun, and call him names like a bunch of third graders, all they wanted. At the end of the day, he had helped a tiny Ishvalan boy sleep. In the grand scheme of things, it didn’t mean much, certainly not compared to all the other Ishvalans he had killed… but it was still better than letting him starve. 

* * *

The first thing that Roy did, when he returned from the battlefront, was go right to the wash station and  _ scrub _ . The heat of the day and the baking sun seared burnt blood to his hands and face, and even if it didn’t sear to him, he still had the horrible imagery of it and the irrational and endless desire to scrub his skin off just to make it go away. 

By the time he finished, using some coarse sand when soap and water and a sponge just didn’t do the trick, his skin was red, and not from the sun. He walked away miserably, tugging his sleeves back over his stinging arms. 

Hughes met him by the mess with a sad little smile. They didn’t speak a word, a little haunted by today’s events, just went in, waited in line, and sat down when they had their gruel. 

Hughes at least had the luxury of a letter from his girlfriend to keep him sane. He had pulled that out at some point and was making that bizarre goo goo face at it. Roy always found it best to ignore him at the best of times—to pretend that he wasn’t there and  _ wasn’t _ a fully grown man making those bizarre faces. At least he was staying fairly quiet in his goo goo faces and bizarre noises. Roy had a headache and  _ really _ couldn’t stand to support Hughes’ strange…  _ strangeness _ . 

As more and more soldiers flooded into the mess, Roy’s headache grew steadier and steadier. Constant streams of voices, some chatting with one another, others just whispering to themselves as they recovered, or mumbled words as they wrote to their loved ones. It was like a constant stream of voices, unending, like a jumbled mess and yet all individual. 

Roy dropped his face into his hands and shoved his tray out of the way, stomach twisting. He couldn’t stand to eat—especially none of  _ this _ . 

“Where’d Kimblee run off to?”

Roy groaned inwardly. The question hadn’t been asked of him, as he couldn’t give less care to where Kimblee had gone. He couldn’t even fathom why anyone would give a rat’s ass where that psychopath had gone. If they were lucky, he’d found himself a sandstorm to get lost in. If they were  _ really _ lucky, he’d never show his face again. 

“I dunno,” said one of those strange people who trailed after Kimblee like a watchdog. “Went outside for a smoke or something. Ha—you see that stupid Ishvalan runt? Looks like someone’s been teaching it a couple lessons.  _ Serves it right _ . Heard it talked back to Grand so a whole  _ team _ —”

Roy furrowed his brows and glanced up to Maes, who had paused in his quiet goo gooing. There was a small voice behind them, asking if there was room to sit, but Roy didn’t turn to see Hawkeye approaching them quietly. His eyes instead were for the man who had spoken, willing an explanation out of him through glare alone. It didn’t work, the man didn’t even seem to be notice Roy’s ominous presence several tables over, just kept chatting obnoxiously, no longer about the “Ishvalan runt”. 

That couldn’t be good. It couldn’t be good at all. That he had brought up the little kid at all could mean no good news for him, and when he said an entire  _ team _ …

He was on his feet, shoving his tray far to the side, before he knew what he’d done. There was a surprised little “oh!” behind him as he bumped into Hawkeye, then he skirted around a few other soldiers and was out the tent, two pairs of racing boots following behind him. 

Roy didn’t know the kid, but he figured he didn’t have to, to not want him beat up. And this couldn’t be good if there was a team out after him. And judging by the small group gathering around the flagpole, they had found him. 

There were only about six men, so with himself, Hughes, and Hawkeye they should have been fairly easily to take on. And ha, surprise surprise—Roy could see Kimblee’s ponytail swinging about and swaying in the middle, right by the pole. There was a little voice from the center, too—it was saying things in Ishvalan that Roy couldn’t understand, but judging by the inflection in the voice, the boy was trying to get Kimblee to back off. 

Oh,  _ he  _ would make Kimblee back off. 

He ran right up to nearest guy, a huge muscly guy that Roy wouldn’t normally piss off for protection of his own face. He pulled back his fist, dug in his feet, and tossed the muscly guy to the ground with one well placed punch. 

_ “That’s enough _ !” he snarled, turning on the next guy as his first victim slumped to the ground. The second one immediately twisted around with a shout, grabbing Roy by his fist and yanking him off balance. Kimblee stopped tormenting the little Ishvalan, instead turning to observe, as the other men quickly turned to assist their teammate. 

Roy could barely hear it, over the sounds of a fight, but the boy’s voice turned to quiet, weak cries. They spurred his actions further, angry at his own countrymen for doing this to a child, whatever his skin color.

Suddenly, the second huge guy released Roy’s fist and took several steps back. Arms were wrapped around his neck, and Roy just caught a glimpse of Hughes on his back, yanking him away tenaciously. Hawkeye was right by them, searching for her chance to jump in and take out one or two men on her own. 

Roy lifted his fist and shoved it into the face of a dark-haired lieutenant. The man didn’t even seem to care, instead grabbing Roy’s arm and shoving him off balance. He squared his shoulders and tossed Roy to the ground like a ragdoll, pinning him to. Roy gritted his teeth in the sand, eyes darting about for a method or means of escape so he could just  _ get to the kid _ . 

Then, through the shifting legs, he saw a little face peeking through. The boy was bloodied and clearly bruised, trails leaking from his nose and hairline. Sand dotted his face where it stuck to his blood—a very macabre scene on the face of a child surely no older than five. 

His blood  _ boiled _ . 

He yanked his elbow back, effectively smashing in the nose of the man on top of him. The man gasped and scrabbled back, giving Roy just the opening he needed. He lunged forward and grabbed at the ankles of the man in front of him, digging his knees in and giving a firm tug. With a yelp, this soldier fell to the ground, and Roy took that perfect opening to jump to his feet, dart around the fallen man, and reach for Kimblee’s collar. 

This man would  _ pay _ !

“ _ Kimblee!! _ ”

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE!!” 

Roy paused, face contorted with sick hatred and his fists knotted in the collar of Kimblee’s uniform. Kimblee stared with narrow eyes at him, daring him silently to make a move. He wanted to take the man’s neck and just  _ wring him _ . What kind of person, what kind of  _ soldier _ was he?! Ishvalan or not, the boy was still an Amestrian child! Following the annexation of Ishval, the boy and all like him had become apart of their country! He didn’t understand why they were at war with their own countrymen, and he  _ didn’t understand why this group of men was terrorizing this child _ . 

“Mustang!” snarled General Raven, face twisted. “This is the second time in two days I’ve caught you two mucking about here. Now I want a  _ damn _ explanation! What’s going on!”

Kimblee brought up his hands and forcefully removed Roy’s hands from his collar. “Sir,” he said, saluting snidely, “all I was doing was teaching the kid about respect, and Major Flame here thought it appropriate to attack me. A sand-fucker like him going soft now—what sort of problems could this cause?”

“He’s a  _ kid _ !” Roy snarled as if it was clear (which he thought it was). “And you damn well weren’t ‘teaching him about respect’! He didn’t do a damn thing to you!”

“He mouthed off to Major Grand. I was showing him what happens when his tongue isn’t watched.”

Raven’s pupils were dark pinpoints in his eyes, looking back and forth between the two State Alchemists. He didn’t even give the poor kid a glance, not seeming to care for his condition. He settled his gaze on Roy, eyes burning. “You’re causing a  _ ruckus _ ,” he snapped. “I don’t want to see you around this kid again, do you understand, Mustang? I won’t have you bringing down the morale of our troops so you can play  _ hero _ .”

“I’m—I’m causing a ruckus?! They—”

“ _ MUSTANG _ !” Raven snarled again, fury radiating in and out of his voice. “You are  _ beyond _ out of line! What happens to the stupid brat is of no concern to you! Now if I see you pulling this shit again, sand fucker, I’ll have you dishonorably discharged. Am I clear?”

Roy’s eyes darkened, fists clenching at his side. He didn’t respond. Why he was expecting more out of these men was beyond him. 

“I asked you a damn question and I expect a response!  _ Am I clear _ ?”

“Sir!” Roy forced his hand to his brow and saluted fully. “Crystal, sir!”

“Good. I expect better of you, Mustang. Now get away from here.  _ Now _ .”

Raven didn’t turn away until after Roy finally spun around and marched off toward the wash station. He risked a glance back only to see the kid watching him from behind Kimblee, panting and bleeding, and his resolve returned with a vengeance. 

_ I can’t just sit around and watch this happen _ . Not to a child. Not like this. There was nothing just, nothing to gain from this child’s capture. No information could be taken from him, he didn’t appear to be the child of anyone special, just a desert boy caught up in a whirlwind of a disaster he shouldn’t be caught in. This was torture for the sake of torture. Something Roy had once naively thought they were all above. 

But what was he supposed to do? Stand there, be the boy’s bodyguard? He didn’t spend enough time in the camp to do that. And even if he did, at this rate Raven would never allow him even near to the kid. 

“Yo! Roy!”

Hughes quickly caught up to him, putting a hand on his arm. On his other side, Hawkeye stopped beside him as well, looking over her shoulder back toward the boy. “Hey,” Hughes said loudly to get his attention again. “What happened back there, you idiot? You’re gonna get us all in trouble if you keep pulling that shit.”

“...I can’t sit around and watch a little kid get beat up, Hughes. Honestly, I’m amazed that you  _ can _ .”

Hughes scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. “I can’t, but I’m not a stupid  _ moron _ about it. Seriously, if you kept your head, you could at least help the kid after! Now what do you expect to do? Watch from afar? What good will that do?”

“I didn’t sign onto the military just to watch a  _ little kid _ get kicked around for  _ shits and giggles _ , Maes!” Roy snarled, looking his friend in the eyes. “If I can just mill around while an innocent child is—is being  _ tortured for his skin _ , then how can I say I’m any better than—than Kimblee or Raven or any of them!”

Hawkeye opened her mouth to say something, but quickly decided that the comment wasn’t worth the conversation. Roy had an idea what she had wanted to say, something along the lines of “we’re here doing just that to thousands of innocent Ishvalans”, and was glad that she chose not to play that game today.

“Then  _ what do you plan to do _ !” Hughes demanded. He threw his hand out toward the desert and the setting sun, the sun painting the sand with an awful red glow that made everything look infinitely hotter than it already was. “Tell me that! Tell me your plan! Because whatever your intentions were,  _ that child cannot eat now! _ ”

Roy’s dark eyes glanced toward his hand and the open desert, then glanced back to Hughes’ face, without a clue. Hughes had a sad and unfortunate point. Acting foolishly and impulsively may have cost the boy his next meal. What could he—?

His eyes darted back toward the powerful, aching sun, its glow hot and heavy and pervasive. It was there, ever present with a glow that both brought life and destroyed it. 

Somewhere, out there amongst the dunes lit up by its light, there was an Ishvalan village missing a child. Somewhere out there was a mother whose arms were empty, a father whose eyes were sorrowful, perhaps brothers and sisters, aching and longing for their brother to return home. 

...That was it.  _ That was it _ !

“I’ll bring him home.”

“How do—what?”

“I’ll bring him home!” Roy said, eyes looking all over the place now for the nearest source of help. The general’s war tent was not far from here at all. Roy knew that the village that had been raided was Askia, a small community to the east. He didn’t know how to get there, but if he could snatch a map of the surrounding area, then he could bring the child back where he belonged. It was foolish and suicidal at best, but dammit—if he died out in this godawful desert, then he  _ hoped _ it was because he was trying to do right by someone. He’d die labeled a traitor by his people, but he would also die knowing in his heart that he had  _ done what was right _ . And in a war as horrible as this, perhaps that was all he could hope for. “Cover me.”

“Cover you—!” Hughes and Hawkeye chased after him as he headed toward the war tent, glancing all about and waiting to see if he would be caught. But no one seemed to be around—it was just after the dinner hour, seven o’ clock breaks would come for the night guard, which meant arrangements were being made to cover for them. Honestly, Roy couldn’t have stormed off in this general direction and come to this decision at a more perfect time. 

He dipped into the tent, eyes darting around. The sun hadn’t set, and its light shone in through the canvas, but otherwise there was no light with which Roy could see. It took him a moment, but Roy’s eyes soon adjusted to the looming darkness and allowed him to make better sense of what was around him. 

The war tent was more fancily furnished than any of the other tents put together. There was a bed for General Raven and his entire trunk, a desk for planning, as well as a few personal items. Roy quickly zeroed in on what he needed—that desk was his best bet. 

He darted over to it and yanked out its drawers, lighting the lamp and flipping through the tabs impatiently. In the bottom right drawer, he soon found what he was looking for, pulling out the glorious map and holding it to him like it was a letter from his love. He shoved the drawers back into place, then turned to leave the tent and make his preparations. 

His eyes caught on something daunting. 

It looked like plans for a battle that Roy hadn’t seen. He had never seen that formation, either. There were a few squads sectioned off, it looked like, standing at the corners of some place called Aishoa. They would all march in unison—right, attack from all sides, not let the enemy escape. Not a bad plan, as it could almost certainly ensure victory as long as the troops they were fighting weren’t as strong as they were. 

He shook his head and turned away from the plans. They didn’t matter yet. He could worry about them at a later date. For now, he had to prepare. He possibly had a  _ very _ long trip ahead of him.

* * *

 

“You’re fucking joking me,” Hughes said, shoulders slumped in exhaustion. He clearly did not expect for Roy to actually come up with a plan, nor to follow through with it so quickly. It was a little ridiculous after all, wasn’t it? Stealing a child from his place of capture and returning him deep in enemy territory? “You’ve got to be literally fucking joking me. There’s no way that you’re serious.”

“I am,” Roy said, packing his things together tightly. He was grabbing as little as he could get away with. He and the kid were going to have to spend a good amount of time sneaking into and out of both Amestrian and Ishvalan territory, either of which finding them could likely result in failure. He made sure that nothing he grabbed would make enough noise to cause a ruckus or draw someone’s attention. “Did you grab the food like I asked?”

Hughes scowled and handed Roy the tray he’d never finished. Roy knew that Hughes was supportive of what he was trying to do, it just made him nervous. Angering the military was not a smart thing to do, but Roy was going to be risking their fury and vengeance unless he had the perfect plan. “Here.”

Roy set a swatch of cloth on the floor and dumped the food there. He then took Hawkeye’s and Hughes’ when they handed over their own, leaving only a little bit so he could ensure the boy could eat safely before they left. 

“Are you really doing this?” Hawkeye asked, glancing out into the night air. It was cool out now—the sun was fully set and night was in full swing. The poor kid out there had to be freezing cold and stinging. “You’ll be discharged and stripped of your rank and title if you’re found out.”

“I have to do this, Hawkeye,” Roy said, sitting back and looking over at her. His eyes glowed with fierce determination. “I can’t sit around and watch the same men who kidnapped a kid, beat, and starved him be praised as heroes when we finally go home! He’s just a kid. I have to get him home.”

“How do you plan on getting there?” Hughes wondered, the snap wearing out of his voice. “It took over two hours to get to Askia by car, you know that, don’t you? Are you going to steal a  _ car _ ?”

“Don’t be foolish,” Roy scoffed. The military guarded those cars to the point where it was almost more dangerous to threaten them than it was the Fuhrer. “I’m not stealing a car. We’ll just—we’ll have to walk. We’ll be fine. If you can fight in the desert, you can travel in the desert. That’s my motto.”

“Oh is  _ that _ your motto?” Hughes rolled his eyes, furrowing his brows when Roy tied all of his stuff to his pack. He unclipped his canteen and handed it to Roy; surely he would need it more than Hughes would. 

“...Yes, it is. Thanks.” Roy clipped the three canteens to his bag, as Riza had handed her own over as well. He stood, now that nearly everything was packed, and looked around to check that he had the time to steal the last thing he needed for his journey. The poor thing sat out there, completely unguarded. That was the nice thing about their camp and stealing from your own military. They watched their borders, but they wouldn’t expect a thief to come from within.

He made quick work of the distance between his tent and the kid tied to the flagpole. The boy’s head was low, chin to his chest, looking absolutely miserable. Sand still stuck to him, clinging to his blood and little spots all over that Roy just knew was soldiers’ saliva. Bruises coated his little legs, and Roy feared getting a good look at his face and seeing the damage Kimblee and his men had done to this child. 

The boy stirred when Roy’s crunching footsteps approached. He lifted his bruised face to Roy, peering up at him through eyelids at half mast. He was aching, starving, sunburnt and tortured at the age of a kindergartener. He wouldn’t last long like this. He breathed out something, but whatever it was died on his lips.

“Do me a favor,” Roy said, crouching and pulling out the push knife Hughes had lent him. Alchemy would be  _ far _ too flashy for this task, and for most of their trip if they were to avoid getting caught. “And stay quiet.”

“Huh?” The boy breathed brokenly, not even able to lift his head. “Wha’s goin on?”

“Shh,” Roy hissed quietly. He slid the knife between the pole, and the boy’s wrists. He had to be careful here—one slip up could really hurt the kid, and he needed his trust desperately if they were going to do this. “Don’t worry. Don’t be afraid. You’re gonna be alright; I  _ will _ get you home. I just need you to trust me.”

The boy moaned a quiet breath, looking up at him with eyes squeezed tight in pain. He didn’t say anything else, chin falling back against his chest. 

Roy slit through the rope binding his wrists carefully, then went back to his front and eased the child forward into his arms, nestling him against his chest as if they were sharing in an embrace. The boy properly collected and nestled, Roy stood and carried him away from his place of torment and into his tent. Hawkeye and Hughes were still there, both looking a little overwhelmed by his impulsivity, but he figured that if they had any plans at all of staying his friends after all this was over, they had better get used to his heart taking the reins. He was a bleeding heart on the best of days and, well…  _ this _ on some of the worst. 

“Hand me a canteen,” he said, taking a seat on his bedroll. He lifted one knee and turned the boy so he could stay sitting up against him. Now that they were in the light, Roy could see he looked  _ so _ much worse. Bruises dotted his face and his cheek was swollen, his nose had bled and two streams of blood had dried on his upper lip, over his lips, and down his chin. There appeared to be a cut somewhere in his hair as well, a small river of blood having dried on the side of his face just in front of his ear. What wasn’t bloodied and bruised was pale from exhaustion, hunger, and dehydration, and all of him radiated heat as if he was a little space heater himself. 

A canteen was pressed into his hand, so Roy quickly uncapped it and tossed the cap to the side in his haste. He tilted the kid’s head back, as the child seemed too out of it to even know what was going on, and pressed the spout to his lips, draining as much water into him as he dared. He glanced down and at least noticed the boy’s throat moving and swallowing, taking in everything in bleary desperation. 

Roy was able to drain half the canteen into the kid before he gained enough willpower to weakly lift his hand and push it away. Some color had returned to his face, and though his eyes were still bleary and unfocused, he at least had a little more life to him. 

Without being asked, Hawkeye stepped away toward the little bit of food Roy had left out of the folds of his bag. As she set that beside him, Roy took the canteen and splashed water onto his hand, wiping at the boy’s face and neck to clear the blood, sand, and saliva and to hopefully cool him down. 

When the child passed as human again, rather than a sticky victim, Roy set the canteen aside and took the tray Hawkeye had retrieved. He gathered a small handful of the food, mumbling, “open up, kid. We need to leave soon and I want you to eat, first.”

The boy didn’t seem to understand what he had said, but he did seem to understand that Roy had food and wasn’t eating it himself. He parted his lips and let Roy pop in a few bites. When he seemed to regain a little more life, he batted Roy’s hand out of the way and reached for the food himself. Roy smiled a little, glad he appeared to be doing some good, and held the tray for him while the kid picked at his meal. 

Finally, the tray was clean, and Roy took it away while the boy slumped into him tiredly. He was still a little flushed, but already looked infinitely better. He moistened his lips and looked up to Roy, mumbling a very soft, “thank you…”

“Don’t thank me until you’re home. Are you ready to go?”

“Go?” wondered the boy. “Where are we going? You said that earlier, too.”

“I’m taking you home. Just think—in like three days, you’ll be back at home with your mother. Won’t that be nice?”

“...Why?”

“Because,” Roy said with a shrug. He hefted the boy to the ground and turned to his bedroll, rolling it up and tying it to his pack. “You need to go home.”

Though the boy still looked a little confused, he seemed to accept the explanation at face value. He sat and watched while Roy packed up the very last of his stuff. 

Roy secured his bag onto his back, everything else in place but the boy. He crouched and collected the boy into his arms, and the boy didn’t protest except for a soft hiss that said Roy might have grabbed him a little too tightly. The boy deposited his arms around Roy’s neck, thankfully choosing to trust him, and buried his stinging cheek against his shoulder. 

“You’ll cover for me?” Roy asked of his friends before stepping out into the night. “Won’t you?”

Hughes shifted uncomfortably but still nodded. Beside him, Hawkeye reached out and took the arm not holding the boy aloft. “Are you  _ sure _ about this, Mustang?” It wasn’t exactly the question it presented as. Hawkeye made it clear in her eyes that if he was going to do this, he would have to get the child through to the end. No stopping, no hesitating. This boy would see his home—and Roy was likely to see consequences afterward. 

And Roy was fully aware of that. That simply didn’t matter to him. Not right then. He looked to the boy in his arms, who looked up at him as if he understood what Hawkeye’s hidden question was and wondered the same. 

“...Yes. I am. I shouldn’t be more than a few days.”

Hawkeye pursed her lips, then nodded and, to Roy’s surprise, she snapped into a salute. “Alright. We’ll hold down the fort from here, sir. Do what you need to do.”

“Right. Don’t die while I’m gone.”

The boy mumbled something under his breath, although he had put his face back into Roy’s shoulder so Roy couldn’t understand him. He hefted the boy a little higher and saluted with the wrong hand, then turned toward the east. Very soon, they were past the night guards and into the empty dunes, headed toward the very heart of Ishval.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goal for the next chapter is to come out before March 1st!


	3. Chapter 3

Roy discovered, rather unpleasantly, that maps only helped when they were accurate. And had a scale. That helped, too. 

That, or he discovered something else, and that was that he couldn’t read maps, which was equally as possible. 

The boy fell asleep somewhere around thirty minutes into their walk. He had been silent the entire time before that, blearily watching the night sky and the desert dunes. Roy didn’t mind, in fact welcomed the silence to hopefully get his bearings, find the landmarks marked on the map, and get going. 

And fight off his exhaustion the whole time. It hadn’t exactly been relaxing, out on the battlefield earlier, and he didn’t know when he’d be sleeping next. 

_ Snap out of it, Roy _ !

His exhaustion couldn’t matter. It didn’t, and he couldn’t afford to let it. He hefted the child up closer, who hitched a little breath in his sleep but didn’t stir. His body was still radiating heat from his vicious sunburn, and Roy couldn’t even imagine how much it must sting and ache. Sitting out in the scorching sun for two days straight was going to take a long time to heal, but he was from a culture that was  _ always _ out in the sun. Surely once he got the boy to his home, his mother could help him heal that awful burn. 

He breathed out a little laugh and shifted the boy again a little, glancing at his map once more. Stupid thing. He was still going east, he was sure, but if there was a stupid scale on here it could tell him how far he needed to go. 

He lifted his head, eyes darting to and fro. There was no place to hide out here, and no place for anything to hide behind. His paranoia was sneaking up behind him, but he supposed that this time that was understandable. Now, with the boy on his arm, he was sure to be hunted or attacked from both sides, whether it was Amestrians or Ishvalans who found them. 

“ _ Nnnn, mama… _ ” the boy mumbled into Roy’s collar, curling his fingertips into Roy’s neck. Roy paused, shifting his eyes to look to the child, then smiled and shook his head. 

No, he wouldn’t let anyone, not Amestrian nor Ishvalan, find them until that boy was safe and sound at home in his mother’s arms. After that, it was anyone’s guess what would happen to him, to either of them he supposed. Roy himself would likely be killed by the Ishvalans or returned to the Amestrian military where he’d be labelled a traitor and executed. And the boy, if he was extremely lucky, would escape the death that had befallen so many of the Ishvalans and would continue to befall them until the end of this stupid war. But if he could just get this child, this innocent thing, back to the safety of his mother’s arms, then he had done his part. 

“ _ Maaaaa _ …” the boy breathed into his shoulder, then he lifted his head from Roy’s shoulder and peered around nervously. He blinked heavily, and then asked very quietly, “where am I?”

“Do you remember?” Roy asked of him, glancing up at him. “That the Amestrians came and took you from your home?”

“...Yeah,” he said, though the look he wore said he was only just remembering that. 

“...Do you remember what happened after that?”

The boy looked at him sleepily, then looked up to the moon. “...I remember that man was yelling things at me, but then they stopped, and then you were there and yelling, except it was at the man. And I remember that you came and let me go, and now here we are. That’s all.”

“Here we are,” Roy agreed. “We’re heading back to your home in Askia. I don’t know the way there very well, but I’ve got a map, and I bet that when we get close enough you can take me right there.”

The boy nodded, saying a very quiet “yeah…” under his breath. He leaned his cheek back against Roy’s shoulder, then mumbled, “I still don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand?” Why the war was happening? Why the Amestrians were attacking innocent Ishvalans? Why he’d been taken from his home in the first place? Roy was sure there was plenty of things for the kid to not understand. 

“Why you’re taking me home.” The boy lifted his eyes to look at Roy’s cheek, but Roy could still feel the look in his soul. 

“I told you. You need to go home.”

The boy scoffed and frowned, turning his head away. “Yeah you said, but  _ why _ ? I mean, you’re Amestrian, and I’m Ishvalan. Mama said all Amestrians are bad. Specially the stupid  _ military _ ,” he eyed the navy blue uniform that Roy wore beneath his white suncoat. “And their stupid  _ alchemists _ .”

Roy dropped one hand to cover the pocket his spark gloves were nestled safely in. Maybe there were a few reasons that Roy wouldn’t be doing alchemy on this trip. 

“...Yes, I am Amestrian, and yes, you are Ishvalan,” he said, because that was the most obvious of what the kid had stated. “And yes, I’m part of the military. But that doesn’t mean that I want to see any of your people hurt.”

“ _ Your _ people blow up  _ my _ people every day,” the boy spat, effectively shutting Roy up. He didn’t appear to have anything else to say, though, was just stating a fact. 

It took Roy a couple extra seconds to recover his place, but he continued nonetheless. “...I know, and so very few of us want to do it. Many of us would do anything to get far away from there. But we can’t. Many of us, myself included, joined the military just so that we could protect people, could protect our families and our friends, could protect anyone we came across. That’s what I plan to do. And that,” he glanced down to the boy to get his point across, looking him right in his red ruby eyes. “Is exactly why I’m taking you home.”

The child was quickly at a loss for words, so after a moment, he just mumbled “okay…” and turned to plant his chin back on his shoulder, watching their backs. After a few moments, he stopped moving entirely, just draped himself over Roy. 

Roy hummed to himself and chuckled, glancing back down to his map. There was supposed to be some sort of large rock formation out here Roy was headed towards. It looked as if something might be peeking over a dune up ahead—but he couldn’t be sure. Worth taking a look at, at least. 

“Hey kid,” he said, heading toward the huge dune. “We’ll probably be traveling together for a couple of days, so do you have a name? My name’s—” He glanced back over to the boy, then hurriedly shut himself up. The kid’s eyes were closed and he looked at peace, chin nestled comfortably on his clavicle. 

Roy supposed that even if he had gotten a full night’s rest with Roy the night before, it was surprisingly draining to just sit out in the sun all day and bake. Never mind starving, desperately in need of water, and then getting the snot kicked out of him by a bunch of men four to five times his own age. Roy supposed he would be pretty much exhausted, too. 

“...Next time, then.”

* * *

It was nearly noon of the next day when Roy finally breached that dune and reached the rock formation. He took a break from the heat of the sun, crouching with relief in its shade. The kid hadn’t yet awoken, and it worried Roy a little, but his breathing was fairly normal when he had checked, and his pulse had been consistent and relaxed. So Roy worried in silence. The kid was just sleeping, and Roy didn’t want to disturb him. 

He pulled his canteen from his bag and uncapped it, pushing back a few swigs and forcing himself to stop before he took more. He didn’t know how long of a trip this was actually going to be, and even though he had three entire canteens, that was still three canteens split between two people, and that wouldn’t last them forever. It was the same reason he had skipped breakfast in favor of walking and ignoring his protesting belly. If the kid was hungry when he awoke, then they could stop and eat, but Roy didn’t want to go through their supplies so quickly. That, and he wanted to get as far as they could today, and get to a safe and secure location before they sat down and relaxed. 

He nestled the child on his lap, and the boy mumbled something sleepily but still burrowed into his shirtfront. At least he was at ease there. He didn’t seem to mind at all that he was cuddling up to an Amestrian. That despite all of the hostilities between Amestrians and Ishvalans, this one kid still felt comfortable enough (or perhaps tired enough) to just sleep on him. 

He was sort of honored that, despite all he had done, all of the bad he had brought to the Ishvalan people, he was still worthy of that. 

...Of course, the kid didn’t know who he actually was. It was clear that he either didn’t know about the Flame Alchemist, which was likely not true if his own mother had told him about ‘Amestrians and their alchemists’, or he just didn’t recognize him as the Flame. If the boy were to recognize him, all of that trust would fly out the window. He hadn’t been in this desert for very long, but already he was singlehandedly responsible for killing the same amount of Ishvalans in a week as a normal soldier did in three months. The only one who had done more damage was Kimblee, but that was because Roy was almost certain he made sport of it. 

Regardless. Roy couldn’t let on who he was and what he had spent a healthy chunk of his young life dedicated to. For now, he was Roy Mustang, Amestrian soldier. Hopefully the Flame Alchemist wouldn’t have to come up in pleasant—or not-so-pleasant—conversation. 

Roy scrubbed at his eyes and shook his head. He fit his arm beneath the boy’s bottom and heaved him a little higher so he could climb to his feet easier. He had places to be, and there was no point in letting dark thoughts slow him down. He was Roy Mustang. Flame Alchemist or not, the kid in his arms had to be his priority, and the land far to the east was his destination. 

He eased the kid further up on his shoulder so his chin hung over. He fastened his pack more securely on his back, then started to move. He had to get somewhere secure before nightfall—he knew he wouldn’t be able to last another night without sleep, not safely. Whether it meant locating a cave, or finding a bombarded Ishvalan village to crouch in, he would take it. 

A soft noise sounded from near to his ear, and the head of white hair turned and pressed to his head. Roy chuckled when the boy yawned hugely, stretching his neck, then his arms from around his neck. 

“...Mr… Amestrian…?” 

“Yeah?” It occurred to him that as much as Roy didn’t know about the kid—and Roy didn’t really know a thing about him other than that he was taken from Askia—the kid knew equally as little about him. They didn’t even know the others’ names. 

Of course, Roy supposed it was a little different regarding names. As a Xingese-Amestrian, Roy figured anyone who wanted it could know his full name. Names didn’t mean quite what Ishvalan names did, in Xingese or Amestrian culture. But for Ishvalans, as Heathcliff had said to him one late night at the Academy, your Ishvala-granted name was sacred. Many had a public name that anyone could use, a nickname of sorts, while their sacred name was kept hidden, for the use of those trusted and close. 

Roy wouldn’t even say Heathcliff’s aloud out of respect. He was  _ still _ honored that Heathcliff had told him.

“When are we gonna be there?”

Roy half-chuckled, half-groaned. That couldn't start  _ already _ . “I don’t know,” Roy said honestly. “No more than a week.”

“A  _ week _ !” the boy protested, pushing himself off of his shoulder so he could look Roy in the face and judge his credibility. “But I wa—“

“If it means staying out of the hands of any Amestrian  _ or _ Ishvalan soldiers, then I’ll be as cautious as possible and it’ll take us a month.”

The boy scowled hard and looked to the side, glaring at the sand. “Thought we wanted to find Ishvalans though.  _ Right _ ? Since I ‘need to go home’.”

“Just because they’re Ishvalan doesn’t mean that they’re home.” Didn’t the kid know a thing about not talking to strangers?

Then again. Roy was still a stranger. 

“And we don’t know which direction they’ll be headed. If they’re going to fight, then that could mean they’d have to take you with them to the frontlines, where you could face a whole bunch of State Alchemists, or they’ll remember who you are, and take you right back to that pole.”

The boy shivered mightily, eyes lighting with distress when he realized what that could mean. His fingertips knotted in Roy’s white coat, and he just said, very softly, “...oh.”

Roy sighed a little. He hadn’t meant to frighten the kid. To be honest, he was more worried about his own life when it came to meeting the Ishvalans, than he was the kid’s. There was sure to be a bounty on the head of the killer Flame Alchemist, after all, and most Ishvalans would likely take the chance to take him out. And while he  _ had _ said that he would accept any and all consequences at the end of this journey, he still wanted to see that the kid was returned home. 

“I don’t want to see that happen to you, kid,” Roy quickly said, tightening his grip around him, “so I will get you home, and we are going to need to avoid as many Amestrians, and as many Ishvalans as we can. Which means we’re going to have to be veeeeeeeery quiiiiiet. Can you do that for me?”

The boy finally settled back against Roy’s chest and put his arm back around Roy’s neck. He nodded softly as if to prove that he could, which just made Roy chuckle.

“Good. One other thing, kid,” he said as he recalled what he attempted to ask last night. 

“Hmm?”

“If we’re going to be together for a couple of days, I don’t fancy calling you ‘kid’ the whole time. You got a name?”

The boy hummed softly and didn’t answer for a few moments, as if considering what he should say. Considering the sacredness of Ishvalan names, Roy wasn't surprised that he had to debate with himself. 

Finally, after a long quiet moment, the boy sat back in Roy’s arm so he could look him straight in the face once more. “My name is Zedekiah. ...But you can call me Ed.”

Roy’s eyes went unnoticeably wide when he realized the kid’s intent. He had given Roy his full, sacred Ishvalan name, the one picked by Ishvala himself. It was a show of trust—the one that said “you’re taking me home and I can respect you for that”. The sacredness of an Ishvalan name probably didn’t mean quite as much to a five year old child as it did to a full grown, practicing for years Ishvalan, but even he had clearly been debating his options.

He was trusting him with his name. And Roy was honored with that admittedly misplaced trust.

He smiled then, at Ed, whose eyes were darting to the side as if afraid that he had made the wrong decision. He paused, then lifted his free left hand and held it out to the boy in his own show of respect. “Well then it’s nice to meet you, Ed. My name is Roy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, goal for the next chapter is to come out before March 1st!


	4. Chapter 4

Night quickly fell in the desert, inky blackness creeping up on them like a bank of fog. Ed had wiggled free from Roy’s grip and now walked along beside him, finally with enough sleep and energy to move about on his own. He walked about a quarter of a step behind him, still quietly distrustful but knowing that Roy was the only way to get home. 

At least there was an Ishvalan ruin they had spotted about an hour ago that they were nearly to. Roy was nearly dead-on-his-feet tired, and hadn’t eaten all day. Ed complained quietly about hunger, but Roy’s promise to stop as soon as they found a secure building to crouch in kept him at least mostly quiet. The most protest came from his growling belly. 

Since exchanging names, neither of them had said much. Roy got the impression that, like himself, Ed was an introvert who liked the quiet, and since he was around a quiet stranger, was not apt to speak up and elicit conversation. Roy didn’t at all mind. He liked the sounds of the desert, when they weren’t broken up by gun spatter and explosions. It almost made it seem like a casual walk through a nature exhibit, rather than the near life-or-death mission that it actually was. 

The ruins they found were lit up with gunfire on one side but thankfully were blissfully dark and silent on the side nearest them. Roy would probably be sleeping with one eye and one ear open, ready to pack up should the battle come much closer. Thankfully, these ruins had once been a great center for commerce, and so attracted many many citizens. The area looked quite expansive. They should at least have time for a few hours of shuteye before they needed to move. 

“This way.”

Ed grunted weakly and followed Roy as he descended a dune. There was a broken house near the bottom of the dune, that looked to be half blown apart. Supposing there were no animals or guerrillas inside, it might make for a semi-decent shelter. 

Roy swiftly pressed his pack to the wall of the ruins, waiting on bated breath to see if some sort of noise would come from inside. There wasn't even a sound, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. He gathered Ed to him, who peered up at him with confused eyes, and wrapped his hand around his shoulder, keeping him still. He peeked into the nearby doorway, using the light of the moon to look best as he could. To his knowledge, there was nothing there waiting in the shadows. 

The fact that he may have found them a decent place to just lay down and get some shut eye for even an hour made this place extra appealing.

“It’s clear,” he told the boy, whose confused gaze did not stifle. Still, the boy recognized his semi-lighthearted tone and the relieved dip of his shoulders. He followed Roy into the doorway, let him do a full inspection, then approached when Roy waved him in. 

“Can we  _ eaaat _ yet?” Ed whined, collapsing to the broken floor with a weary sigh.

Roy rolled his eyes and set down his pack, unhooking the mostly full canteen. “Drink first, then we’ll see about food.” He held the canteen out to the kid, who whined quietly but crawled over to take it. “Only a little bit, we have to conserve,” Roy reminded lightly, which received a mumbled, “yeah I know.” 

Ed took one swig, considered the canteen, then capped it and set it aside, watching as Roy removed his sleep sack and laid it out. Finally he pulled a tied swatch of cloth from his bag and set it down, untying the knot and revealing the gold inside.

Amazing, how food that was no better than garbage yesterday looked like a goddamn cuisine now that he was approaching 36 hours without sleep and 24 without food. He collected enough to tide over he and Ed until morning, then tied the rest up and put it back in his bag for safe keeping. 

Ed’s stomach suddenly rumbled loud, and Ed quickly wrapped his arms around it, wide eyed. He looked up at Roy as if expecting mockery, so Roy kept his face blank as he ushered Ed over to share his sack. Ed eyed him and the meal, then crawled over to him, dragging the canteen, and nestled on the far end of the sack.

“Is this all?”

“If we don't want to starve, it is,” Roy said, popping a few pieces into his mouth even without a grimace. It tasted no better than it had yesterday, but that was still better than an empty stomach. “We’ll eat again in the morning if we have time.”

Ed scooped up a handful and stared down at it, then started softly and bowed his head low. Roy watched for a few moments, eyebrows knit in confusion, until Ed lifted his head again and tossed a couple pieces back.

_ Ah _ , it occurred to Roy when Ed quietly ate,  _ he must have been praying. _ Heathcliff used to do the same before every meal, although his prayers were a little more drawn out and wordy. 

He watched the kid for a few more seconds before shrugging and digging back into his own meal. One thing that Roy had always been impressed by: the dedication of the faithful. Even now, in this dark time, Ed prayed devoutly. Although he supposed that perhaps he would feel the need to pray now more than ever. 

——

“I can stay up too, you know,” said Ed stubbornly after a five minute argument of “who would take watch”. Roy was astounded that a boy of such small stature managed to make such a  _ big _ stink about being told to go to bed. Sure, the kid had probably spent about half of the day sleeping while Roy carried him and so probably had a little more energy than Roy, but that didn’t mean that Roy would burden him with  _ watch _ . 

“I believe it,” he said amicably, flashing his eyes back to his sleep sack, which was unzipped and laid open as invitingly as possible so Ed would crawl in and sleep. 

“I can stay up and  _ watch _ , too,” Ed spat, eyes narrow and mouth downturned in a sneer. “I’m nearly six, after all.”

“Nearly six,” Roy hummed flatly. “Really. Well I’ve  _ nearly _ had it.”

“Just because I’m younger than you doesn’t mean you have to treat me like I’m a  _ baby _ ,  _ Roy _ . I looked out for all the little kids in my village because Mama trusted me with them.”

Roy rolled his eyes, then quickly squeezed them shut when he felt them sting. The lack of sleep was starting to get to him—it shouldn’t hurt to move your  _ eyes _ . That just wasn’t right. “The only reason that your mother stuck you with the “little kids”,” he said, somewhere between honest truth and a half-teasing snark, “is because she thought you  _ were _ one.”

Ed’s eyes darkened, and Roy opened his eyes to see black fury brewing behind them. In an instant, a flat instant, Ed was on his feet, and Roy thought for sure that he would be attacked. 

“I’M NOT LITTLE!!! DON’T CALL ME SMALL OR I’LL KICK YOU SO HARD YOU’LL MEET ISHVALA!!!” Ed was practically gnashing his teeth, and Roy almost thought that he saw spittle flying from his mouth, but Roy couldn’t really pay attention as he rushed forward and clapped his hands over the infuriated child’s screaming mouth. 

“Hush! Do you want to get us found out? Do you _ want _ to go back to base camp? What are you thinking?” Roy demanded, cupping one hand behind Ed’s head and the other over his mouth so he was kept thankfully muffled. 

Ed’s immediate response was to open his mouth and lick Roy’s hand from one side to the other, so Roy quickly whipped his hand away and wiped his hand on his suncoat. While Roy furiously wiped at the kid’s saliva, Ed crossed his arms, scrunched his nose, and growled out, “don’t call me small.”

“Noted,” Roy said, glaring at his hand. Admittedly, the kid’s saliva wasn’t the  _ absolute worst _ thing his hand had been covered in—for example, the blood of Ed’s countrymen was much worse than a little bit of spit. 

That didn’t make it not gross. 

“Don’t do that,” Roy said, setting his hands to the side to look to the boy. “The licking thing or the yelling thing. You’re gonna get us  _ killed _ , Ed.”

“Then don’t call me small,” Ed snapped again. “I’m not small! I’m a big kid. And as a big kid, I can stay up for a little bit and watch since you look like you’re about to die.”

“I’m  _ not _ about to die. I just haven’t been sleeping well. And it’ll only be an extra hour or so, so it doesn’t even matter.  _ I’ll _ sleep better knowing that you’re sleeping, and  _ you’ll _ sleep better with someone watching over you. So it’s a win-win.”

“I’m not a dumb little kid that needs to be watched over,” Ed grumbled, glaring to the side. Roy saw the look in his eyes though, and figured he must have remembered how he had fallen asleep just the other night with Roy right beside him.  

“I didn’t think that you were. Like I said, I’ll be sleeping not long after you. Now just  _ climb in the sack _ , and  _ shut your mouth _ . We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow, and we both need to be well rested for it.”

Ed scowled hard, but after a moment, he sighed and crawled over to the sack. He slid into it, but turned on his side away from Roy and crossed his arms bitterly. He thought he heard Ed mutter a very soft, “ _ mean _ ” under his breath, but decided not to wonder. So he was ‘mean’ for trying to put a kid to bed? Sure.

There was a gunshot outside. It was far off, probably from the other side of the ruins, but still plenty loud that they could hear it. Ed flinched hard and squeezed his eyes shut, bundling himself into a ball as though to better protect himself. Roy knew that he was probably used to the sound of gunshots in the distance, but even if he  _ was _ used to it, it never really took away the fear, did it? Because you could never know which one would be the last one you heard, and you could never know why. Roy could relate. He just didn’t want to let his fear show. 

He scootched a little closer to the kid and glanced over to look at him. His eyes were still squeezed shut with tension, hands clenched into tiny fists in the fabric. Roy frowned a little, then sighed silently. He wasn’t being fair. Of  _ course _ Ed was being difficult. He had to be terrified, so far from home, with a stranger who was supposed to be his enemy. 

He had to cut the kid some slack. So far, he had been fairly cooperative. And the only reason he wasn’t, was because he knew that Roy needed to sleep. 

He set his hand down above Ed’s head, to remind him that he was there, but Ed flinched hard and curled his head closer. Not much of a surprise there—Roy was an Amestrian, an enemy soldier, after all, but he had hoped he’d earned a little more trust than that. Wasn’t that what Ed giving him his real name was supposed to be?

But he supposed that there were different kinds of trust. 

“Don’t worry,” he said softly when Ed flinched at another gunshot. “The fighting is very far away right now. They won’t find us at all, and by the time they get here, we’ll be long gone. So don’t worry.”

“...I know. You don’t have to tell me.”

The way that Ed flinched again said that Ed did  _ not _ so much know that. 

“So go to sleep. Soon it’ll be morning, and we’ll be on our way.” 

Ed bit his lip and turned his face to the side, then finally he closed his eyes and fell still in an effort to block out the world around him and finally be at rest. 

The gunshots still permeated the air, and each one had Ed flinching hard and trying to curl tighter around himself. Finally though, as the night wore on, Ed’s flinching became more and more subtle, and his face became less and less tense, and finally, all worry left as sleep finally claimed him. 

Roy smiled a little when Ed’s mouth fell open and the boy put himself to sleep. A little tension eased from Roy’s shoulders as well. Maybe, since the kid slept now, he could finally sleep as well. 

He was damn  _ exhausted _ . 

Another gunshot sounded, still far off in the distance, but Roy lifted his head to it all the same and glared in its general direction. Couldn’t they just be at peace for  _ one _ night? Just enough that he could  _ sleep _ and the kid could be at ease? Was that too much to ask? 

He shifted the hand above the kid’s head a little, brushing his sweaty white hair from his face and patting down his matted, dirty bangs. There was still a bit of dried blood in them, and sand hung on as if determined to see Ed home. He’d need a good bath when they finally found his family. Although to be honest, by the end of their journey, Roy wouldn’t be against one, either. 

He sighed and buried his shoulder blades against the wall behind him. That didn’t matter, not yet. First he had to get Ed home. He could worry about all the rest of it after that. About cleaning up, about the war, about everything. After. 

He leaned his head back on the wall, pushing his free hand into his pocket to thumb his spark gloves, and closed his eyes. Soon after, like Ed, the sound of gunshots and the night wind around them lulled him to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's a little boring, more of a filler. Next chapter should be a little more exciting! Goal for next chapter: March 1st again!


	5. Chapter 5

Roy stirred blearily in the morning, his head pounding in a way that told him he did  _ not _ sleep well last night. Bad sleep was better than no sleep (at least he hoped it was), but he could still  _ definitely _ stand to sleep for another week or so. 

There was a sound at the edge of his hearing, but it wasn’t sharp and biting like a gunshot, and it wasn’t loud and jarring like an explosion, so he wasn’t fully aware enough to care. If it was worth his attention, that would become apparent soon enough. 

He had hardly eaten last night—rations hadn’t been enough to spare much—and he could feel his stomach crying in protest. When Ed woke up, he’d be sure to feed him; Roy was willing to bet the kid was pretty hungry as well. 

Speaking of Ed, the kid was still thankfully asleep. The sleep sack kept him confined, but Roy could see that inside, his limbs were all askew. One arm was sticking up over his head, and Roy was sure he didn’t fall asleep like that. 

He wondered if he was haunted by simple restlessness, or nightmares. 

Roy turned his eyes from Ed’s weak slumbering face, scrubbing a hand viciously through his hair and ignoring the grease that had been persistent since his arrival to the desert. He smoothed his hair back carelessly and leaned his head back against the wall. He figured he could stand to rest his eyes a few minutes longer. Let the kid keep resting. It wouldn’t hurt…

“I  _ swear _ —”

Roy’s eyes blasted right back open, wide as dinner plates.  _ He  _ had not said a word, and that was  _ not _ Ed’s little voice. 

One glance down to the little Ishvalan confirmed it, Ed was just stirring, apparently aroused by the voice outside. He turned big red eyes up on Roy, argument from last night apparently forgotten, then looked to the wall behind them, fighting back a brutal yawn.

“When I find the snooty little sand fucking  _ traitor _ ,” spat a voice that sounded suspiciously like Kimblee. He sounded pretty far yet, but was angry so his voice was carrying. The battle on the other side of the ruins was silent now, and Roy wondered on the other side of his terror how many lives, Ishvalan and Amestrian alike, had been lost in the time he’d slept. “I’m going to cut out his fucking throat.”

Roy silently put his hands beneath Ed’s arms and lifted him out of the sack. Ed didn’t even dare to protest, wide eyes whipping about as Roy silently packed up their camp.

“I don’t think thats an opt—“

“Shut  _ up _ . No one  _ actually _ thinks he was ‘taken by Ishvalans’, and Raven’s a moron if he really thinks that.”

_ This was the guy kicking Ed for being disrespectful _ , Roy thought with a silent scoff. He oh so slowly zippered the sack shut.

“The sand fucker is having a goddamn  _ love affair _ with that stupid brat. There’s no  _ way  _ they took him.” 

“You think he made off with the kid?”

“I know for a  _ fact _ he did,” Kimblee spat as he neared. Roy silently strapped his bag onto his pack, passed Ed the canteen so he had a quick drink, then clipped that into place. Without waiting to even ask, Roy lifted Ed from the ground and held him as he had the day before, crouching below the view of the window. Without so much as glancing at his map, and with Ed clinging to him and shaking with fear, Roy moved as quickly as he could toward the exit. “And if that's the case, if he knows what’s good for him, he’ll stay far away and get his stupid ass blown to bits.”

Roy peered around the corner, looking for his battlemates. He spotted them several streets down, facing westward and not their direction. Roy hissed at Ed to stay very very quiet, and Ed planted his face in Roy’s shoulder as if to show that he would. With Ed clinging to his front like a little monkey, and their pursuers facing away from them, Roy stood and dashed across the gap and halfway across the ruins, checking briefly around each corner to locate any others but thankfully finding none. He spotted a tall dune outside of the ruins and made for that, praying for safety.

* * *

 

“I thought they were your friends,” Ed said when Roy felt they were safe enough to stop. He tipped his head up to look at Roy with wide red eyes. 

“That’s the same man I was yelling at for hurting you, do you  _ really _ think they’re my  _ friends _ ?” Roy said, looking over the map and trying to orient himself. In his desperation to escape, Roy had gotten himself lost. He thought he recognized a landmark, but wasn’t sure, and was too nervous of surrounding troops to check quite yet. 

“I dunno. They’re Amestrian, aren’t they? He called you a traitor.”

Ed’s foot was starting to stray onto the map, so Roy grabbed his ankle and pulled it closer toward Ed. He wrapped one arm around the kid and pulled him a little closer into the safety of his shade, using the other to pluck a bit of food from the swatch in Ed’s lap. Since Roy’s suncoat and size provided the greatest protection from the sun, and they needed to make themselves as small and unnoticeable as possible, Ed sat tucked against Roy’s body in his lap, with Roy leaning over him, his suncoat open to wrap around Ed.

“They are, but Ed, they’re not good people. Even I know that. All they know is that it’s their job to kill Ishvalan people, so they don’t like that I’m taking one home.”

“...Did they come because I yelled?”

“Because you—?” Ahh, right. Last night, Ed had yelled because Roy called him small. Ed was understanding the possible consequences of his actions, and judging by the guilty look in his eyes, thought he was at fault.

“...It’s possible, but not likely. I’m sure once the Amestrians overpowered the Ishvalans, they just set out to explore the rest of the ruins. They would have stumbled on us either way.”

Ed scoffed under his breath and crossed his arms, popping another bit of food into his mouth. 

“But do you understand why we need to stay quiet now, Ed? Because if an Amestrian finds us, they’ll even want to hurt me, and I can’t protect you if they hurt me.”

“...Yeah. Oh, hey Roy?”

Roy chuckled under his breath at the sudden inflection. “Yes, Ed?”

“That man said love affair. What does that mean?”

Love affair…?

Kimblee had said that, hadn’t he? ‘ _ The sand fucker is having a goddamn love affair with that stupid brat’ _ , he had said. Roy would hardly call trying to protect a five year old ( _ nearly-six year old _ ) a ‘love affair’, but Kimblee could think whatever he wanted. 

“I think he meant something nasty,” Roy said, choosing not to elaborate on  _ that _ precise subject any further, “but they’re just mad that I don’t like to see you get kicked around. They’re jealous that I made friends with you so easily, is all.”

Ed turned up to look at him, mouth dropped open a fraction, then his eyes narrowed and he scowled. “I’m not a dumb  _ kid _ , Roy,” he said again, “I’m already five, almost six in fact, and I don’t want you to think I’m just a dumb little kid.” With that, Ed twisted out of Roy’s shade, crawled between his arm and leg, and crawled toward the top of the dune, his features twisted. His moving toes had scattered the little remains of their meal and had disturbed the map, so Roy scowled, collected the sandy things, and followed Ed up the dune. Ed had apparently made his decision for him. It was time to fully orient himself.

“Head down,” Roy said, laying flat on his belly when he breached the dune and looked down on what was below him. Ed copied him quietly, chin in the hot sand, eyes darting about for any possible killers. Roy pulled out his map and considered it, matching what he saw to what was on the map. The map showed the ruins marked, now that he glanced, and it of course showed base camp marked so he had a general idea which direction they had come from. Judging by the placement of the sun and the shape of the ruins on the map, they just had to get around a few more dunes and they’d be on the other side of it, safe from where much of last night’s battle had taken place, and on their way east. Easy trek, as long as no more Amestrian soldiers approached. 

“...We should go.”

“...Yeah,” Ed agreed, lifting his head a little, then crawling a little ways down the dune with his head low. Roy rolled his eyes and fully secured his pack, then scootched down the dune as well so his head stayed out of shooting range. He stood, then pulled Ed to his feet and helped him along. Ed didn’t even seem to mind, dusty fingers wrapping nervously around Roy’s longest two. Roy just smiled and let him be. The better they got along, after all, the easier this trip would be, and this way, he could pick up Ed if necessary or pull him back if he got distracted by some wayward something or other. 

“Here,” Roy said, twisting to grab his canteen with his free hand. “Grab a drink quick and we’ll go.” 

Ed took the canteen and unscrewed it, tossing back a swig. He scowled and shook it a little; the canteen made so little noise there couldn’t be much left. He considered the canteen, then held it up to Roy with the cap, silently telling Roy that he could have the rest. 

“...Thank you,” Roy said, taking it and draining it. It wasn’t nearly enough water to last the day, but for now it was all they had, and they needed to go. The other two full canteens could wait for their next break. He hooked the canteen back onto his pack, squeezed Ed’s fingertips, and the two of them headed into the desert. 

Same as yesterday, the trip was silent as they walked. Roy made sure to ask on the occasion if Ed was doing alright, was too hot or if his bare feet were too tired, but besides that, no conversation passed between them. 

At least, once they got past the ruins, there was little fear of being spotted. The dunes hid them quite well, and it wasn’t terribly likely that a soldier would wander off into the dunes without reason. There was the occasional crack of a firearm, followed by a sharp wince from Ed, but even that was muffled and quiet, even farther in the distance than the ruins were. 

Ed put his free hand above his brow and peered up to the cloudless sky, looking around quietly and waiting for something that Roy couldn’t guess at. He suddenly ground to a halt, fingers tightening around Roy’s, staring up to the sun with huge eyes. 

He threw himself to the ground. 

Roy’s eyes darted all about, heart in his throat. What? Did Ed see something? He looked like he was dodging a bullet, but… what? It sounded like he was saying something. 

Ed’s forehead smacked the sand, creating a tiny dent. He peeked up at Roy, who was stiff with surprise, then stretched out to grab Roy’s pantleg and tug hard. “Get down!” he commanded, not caring much for volume. “It’s time to pray!”

“Time to—”

Ed made an overexaggerated huff of a sound and tugged harder on Roy, shifting his leg a little as if to pull him closer. He pushed his forehead to the sand and looked up at Roy heatedly, expecting him to obey.

Not knowing what else to do, Roy glanced all around to look for pursuers, then lowered his head to the sand and copied Ed. 

Ed mumbled softly under his breath for two minutes straight, in what Roy vaguely guessed at as modern Ishvalan. He bowed further every few seconds, looking like he was trying to bury himself into the sand. 

Finally, after one of the longest and most awkward times in Roy’s life, Ed sat back on his heels and lifted his face to the heavens, and Roy took that as his cue to sit up as well. Ed mumbled a few more words, then took a few deep breaths and opened his eyes. He glanced to the side at Roy, noticed him watching, and declined his head a little. 

“...Why weren’t you praying?”

“I, uh…” Roy looked to the expectant boy and swallowed hard. Ed must have expected the Ishvalan religion to be more widespread than it was. He surely seemed to think that Roy believed. “I can’t pray to a god I don’t believe in, Ed. I think they call that sacreligious.”

“Don’t believe—” Ed’s eyes stretched wide, the idea of someone not believing in Ishvala clearly a new, unexplored subject to him. “Wuh… well you have to believe! Ishvala is the Creator of All Things! He created—he created you, and me, and my mom and my brother, and he created my people and your people, and he created the entire world! It says so in our holy book. I’ll even show it to you to prove it.”

Roy didn’t dare to say that having things written down in a holy book was hardly scientific proof, having to fight back a hard scoff. “Well,” he said instead, standing a little as soon as he was aware that Ed’s little praying session was completely over. “I wasn’t raised on the Ishvalan religion, Ed, and what little I know about it, I learned from a friend. I’m a scientist. Hard proof is what will make me believe.”

Ed’s brow furrowed nervously, looking up at him in disbelief. “...I thought you were a soldier.”

He thought he was a—

Oh,  _ shit _ .  _ Yes _ , Roy was a scientist…  _ as the Flame Alchemist _ ! Most regular soldiers weren’t scientists, were only there to get some cash and fight the good fight for their homeland. Scientists in the military were one of three things. One, a doctor, which Roy had clearly proven he was not. Two, an actual experimental scientist, and the military had not sent even one of those to the battlefield yet. Or three, some sort of alchemist.

Roy  _ could not be _ an alchemist. Not to the Ishvalan people, whose religion and god were very firmly against alchemy. What was he thinking, running his mouth like that?

“...Roy?”

“I  _ am _ a soldier, obviously,” Roy said slowly, glancing down to the boy. “What I mean is… I just have a hard time without hard facts. Like sciences. Of course I’m not—not a real scientist. I’m a soldier. You’re right.”

Ed frowned hard, eyes low. “...We have a book. Hard facts.”

“I… have never seen that,” Roy said with a silent sigh. “Maybe when we get there, you can show me.”

“Okay!” Ed chirped. He hopped to his feet and secured his hold of Roy’s fingertips again. “I’ll show you and prove to you! Ishvala is our creator!”

“Okay—but Ed, remember, we have to be quiet and safe, okay?”

With Ed’s prayer time over, they started moving again. Ed seemed a little more light now, swinging Roy’s hand gently and skipping the occasional step. Roy couldn’t begin to imagine why, since they weren’t anywhere near his home, but he didn’t mention it. This carefree side of the child he’d seen tied up and beaten was nice to see. His wounds hadn’t really healed, his eye was still swollen, and Roy knew that his sunburn still raged, but now that he had spent that moment closer to his god, maybe he felt like things would be okay. Roy wasn’t a religious man, not even slightly, but even he couldn’t deny the sense of closure that meeting with a higher power seemed to grant. 

As the sun reached its very highest peak, Ed came to a halt and tugged on Roy’s hand, saying it was time to pray again. It definitely wasn’t worth the argument, Roy decided, so he peeked around for pursuers, then dropped to his knees beside Ed and lowered his head. He didn’t know hardly any words of Ishvalan, but he listened to the surprisingly calming lull of Ed as he prayed his Ishvalan prayer and gave his thanks to his Creator. Once that was finished, Roy offered Ed some water, took some himself, and then they were off. 

His goal for the evening was the next Ishvalan city, a smaller one called Hubard. This was a farming community, not nearly as big as the ruins they’d spent the last night in, but still a healthy enough size for Ed and Roy to find shelter and avoid detection. Hubard was just inside the last of the Amestrian territory, the most recent area to be taken. Inside Amestrian territory, Roy could attempt to pass as someone else, hide Ed somewhere safe, and hopefully avoid any awkward occurrences as long as the Amestrians nearby weren’t from his unit. But outside Amestrian territory, and into Ishvalan-held lands, if anyone found them, Roy was surely screwed. At least inside Ishvalan lands, Ed was more likely to get to his parents safely. Sure, Roy may not see it happen… but Roy had said he would accept any and all consequences for his actions, and that may very well be one of them. 

...But it wasn’t something to worry about now. Roy had learned that there were only so many things you could worry about at once. He could save worrying about being in Ishvalan territory until he was actually in Ishvalan territory. For now, keeping Ed safe and quiet, not being found by Amestrians, and reaching Hubard seemed like a far more pressing issue. 

“...So, Ed,” he said, shoving his free hand into his pocket to thumb his watch. “Who am I bringing you home to? You got a family?”

“Uh huh,” Ed said, kicking up some sand. “I live with my Mama and my little brother!”

“How old is your brother?”

“He’s four but-almost-five. He and me like to read alot. Sometimes we read the same book at the same time!” Ed giggled a little to himself. “He reads waaaaay slow so I have to  _ wait _ .”

“Poor you,” Roy said, eyes twinkling. “I bet having a little brother is annoying, huh?”

Ed shrugged a little and looked to the sand. “...It’s not so bad. Mama likes it when I look out for him. She calls me her little man. Don’t you have a little brother, Roy?”

Roy squeezed Ed’s fingertips a little, noting the little nickname. Ed had freaked out last night when Roy had even insinuated that Ed was smaller than average. But he was  _ perfectly fine _ when his own mother called him little.  

Figures. He  _ would _ be loud and annoying when they needed to be quiet, but quiet when he could actually get away with being loud. 

“No, I don’t have a little brother. I  _ am _ a little brother. I’ve got a whooooole bunch of adopted sisters who always used to look out for me, though.”

“Adopted?” Ed asked, looking up to Roy, eyebrows knit with soft confusion. “What does that mean?”

“Adopted,” Roy agreed. “It means that something happened to my parents when I was young, but someone else took me in to take care of me. I had ‘adopted sisters’, because my foster mother helped look after a bunch of girls, too.”

“Something happened to your parents?”

“Yeah,” Roy said, lowering his gaze. In truth, he didn’t really remember his parents. His Aunt Chris had been around most of his life. The most he remembered was his father’s strong arms and his mother’s gentle voice, and that they had both loved him very much. “They were killed in a car accident when I was even younger than you were.”

“...Car…” Ed mumbled, also lowering his gaze as if mirroring Roy’s own grief. “I’ve heard of those, but I’ve never seen a real one until the other day.”

When Kimblee loaded him up into the first car he had ever seen and kidnapped him, he meant. Not such a good first impression. 

Roy shrugged. “They’re nice to get out of the sun, at least.”

Ed shrugged and turned his face to the sand, eyes low. “...I guess… Hey Roy, am  _ I _ adopted?”

Roy spluttered, and turned down to his companion, whose big red eyes quickly turned up to him in genuine curiosity. “Why would—you live with your mother, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Ed said, “but you said you’re adopted when something happens to your parents. My dad left us a few years ago, and we haven’t seen him since. Does that make me adopted?”

“Not…” Roy shook his head and laughed, eyes crinkling in the corners.  _ This kid _ . “Not quite. It’s more like… if something happened to your mom, and your dad, and then someone came and took you in, then  _ they _ would have adopted you. Does that make sense?”

Roy tried not to think about the fact that, when all this was said and done, and even if Ed’s mother was alive now, she may very well not live to see him grow to adulthood or even adolescence. Little Ed could one day soon be an orphan like he was. And with dark skin, white hair, and red eyes, what was the likelihood that he would ever be adopted?

“I  _ guess _ . Does it count that all the people in my village look out for me and the other kids?”

Roy chuckled again and shoved away his dark thoughts for another time. “Why do you want to be adopted so bad?” he wondered instead. “Think about good things. Like… your little brother. What’s his name?”

“His name’s Al!” Ed chirped. “We like to play lots of fun games with the other kids! Like hide and seek! But Mama doesn’t like that, because sometimes when we’re hiding she gets scared. So we play  _ toqar _ with kicking balls in the street!”

“Yeah? What’s your favorite game to play?”

“I like to play the riddles game! Mama says I shouldn’t because I confuse the other kids, but it’s so easy! Only Al can keep up, but even he can’t all the time!”

“The riddle game, huh? How do you play?”

“I tell a riddle, and you try to guess! I’ll go first, I’m good at this!” Ed looked to the ground and scrunched up his little nose. Roy didn’t dare say that he, too, was rather good at riddles, and decided to let the kid have his fun. It was keeping him entertained, at least, and could even help the trip go faster. 

“Oh! I know a good one!”

“Okay, let’s hear it.”

“My dad told me this one before he left,” Ed said, tightening his fingers around Roy’s. “This is it.  _ Soldiers line up, spaced with pride. Two long rows spaced side by side. One lone unit can decide, if the rows will unite or divide.  _ What is it?”

That sounded awful long for a five-year-old to be able to spout off, but it sounded fairly legitimate. What was it?

Soldiers lined up. Spaced with pride. 

_ The Amestrian military, and their dogs. _

Two long rows spaced side by side. 

_ The Ishvalan people standing on the other side, being supplied by Aerugo, the only thing keeping them going their desperation to see the next day. _

One lone unit can decide. 

_ Him? Was it him? Was it  _ really _ , though? Could he really think that he’d be any sort of deciding factor… in anything? He wanted to protect people. That was all. He neither wanted nor needed power. How could he decide anything? _

If the rows will unite or divide.

_ And even if he was some sort of decider—what would he decide? Would he bring the Ishvalan and Amestrian people together, the way things were supposed to be since Ishval’s annexation? And how would that happen? _

_ By bringing home this tiny child, this little taken thing? Would that do anything? Would that protect anyone? Would it protect him? Would it  _ save  _ him? _

What is it?

_ Me? Is it me _ ?

“...Roy?”

Roy shook himself of his stupor and looked down to the boy, who was watching with furrowed brows and a worried expression. “What, Ed?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. That was—so tough I had to think about it for a long while, but I’m not coming up with anything. What is it?”

Ed’s worried expression transformed to something excited. He reached up and grabbed the zip of his shawl, tearing it up and down almost playfully. “It’s a zipper!! You never woulda guessed that!”

A zipper?

Did Roy just compare himself to a  _ zipper _ ?

_ You need to sleep, man _ . 

“Your turn, Roy! Gimme a good one!” Ed cheered, tugging on his fingers. “Real good so I have to really guess!”

“Ahh—nevermind that, Ed. You want to know what  _ my _ favorite game is?”

Ed seemed to forget his own favorite game in a matter of seconds. “Okay! What is it?”

Roy grinned the evilest grin he could. He dropped Ed’s hand and crouched low, wiggling his fingers menacingly, and a cross between fear and delight tore across Ed’s face like a bullet. “My favorite game to play is the  _ tickle monster _ !” 

Ed shrieked with delight and tore through the sand until he was a deemed safe distance away from Roy, staring at him with huge crimson eyes and a massive smile cutting across his cheeks. “Don’t touch me!” he laughed, and even though he said that, when Roy dropped his hands and almost nervously called for Ed to come back, Ed obeyed with only a spare second’s hesitation. 

And Roy saw something very scary to him, in those eyes, when Ed hooked onto his hand and continued chattering about his family and friends. Something that shouldn’t be there. 

He saw some very misplaced trust. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on TIME.   
> Goal for next chapter is March 15th!


	6. Chapter 6

Ed’s chattering made the trip to Hubard exceptionally light and easy. He happily talked about just about anything he could think of. Roy learned more than he had intended to of the ways of Ishval and how their belief system and practices worked, desert wildlife and plantlife, about the other kids in Askia, about his family, about everything. Apparently once comfortable, Ed was an oversharer by nature. ...But to be honest, Roy didn’t mind. He ‘ooh’ed and ‘ahh’ed when appropriate, asked the right questions, and offered up little snippets of his own life—minus the entire chunk of his life dedicated to his craft, of course. He told Ed about the time he helped out at the bar when he was, ohh, seven or so, had been tripped up, and proceeded to spill several pints of beer—right on the person he had been going to. That particular patron had not been pleased, but his sister Jessica had come to his rescue… and, seeing the mess little Roy had made, had proceeded to burst into laughter, which brought it out of most of the rest of the patrons, a very blushing Roy… and eventually that patron as well, even while Jessica helped to mop up his mess and Octavia helped to clean up Roy. 

Ed had laughed, too, and then asked for another story because Roy’s stories were funny, apparently. So Roy remembered up a few more for him, some from his time with his foster mother and sisters, some from his time with his “old childhood friend” Hawkeye, and one, even, from back when his parents were still alive. 

It was nearing nightfall when Roy and Ed finally made it to Hubard, which was crouched in a virtual valley. Much of it still burned, columns of smoke polluting the sunset sky. There was a semi-clear area to the north, that should at least be safe to crouch in for a few hours and catch a little shut-eye. 

“That’s a lot of fire,” Ed mumbled, digging his fingers into Roy’s pantleg as he looked down on the burning city. The south side of the city burned steadily, but Roy could see that it wasn’t spreading very quickly. 

“It looks contained,” Roy said gently, roaming eyes searching for Amestrian troops or even escaping Ishvalans. “I’m sure that we’ll be safe.”

Ed swallowed and took a step to the side, hiding himself partially behind Roy. “All this fire. You don’t think the Flame Alchemist is here, do you?”

Roy stiffened hard at Ed’s frightened words, glancing down to look at the boy who shook with nerves. 

“He’s scary. He makes fire from his hands,” Ed continued, pressing his forehead against Roy’s thigh. Roy’s skin pinched a little where Ed’s fingertips tightened in his pantleg.

“He…” Roy wanted to defend himself, defend his title to this desperately frightened child who feared the very man he was hiding against. But what could he say? Wasn’t that what Roy did? Killed people with a snap of his fingers, barbecue style? He had no excuse, and he had no defense. “I’m… no,” he said instead, tongue swollen and throat hot but not from the sun. “No, I don’t think the Flame Alchemist is here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely I’m sure,” Roy lied with a bitter taste on his tongue. “And if he—if he does show up, somehow, and he scares you, I’ll protect you. Okay? I’m not afraid of him, and I won’t let him do anything to you.”

“He’ll just burn you.”

“Maybe, but I’m stronger than he is, and I’ve been burned before. I’m not afraid, so you don’t have to be, either.”

Ed hummed and took a deep breath, then stood back and looked up at Roy, who offered his best, wavering smile. “...Okay. You’re kinda brave, aren’t you, Roy?”

“I try. I’m a soldier, it’s my job to be.”

“I hope I can be brave like you one day,” Ed said, mirroring Roy’s smile with a smaller one of his own. “Not even afraid!”

“You’re—“ Roy dared not say just how afraid he really  _ was _ . He just—didn’t have to fear the Flame Alchemist. He wasn’t about to roast himself, after all. “You’re already plenty brave. Crossing the desert all alone with only an enemy soldier for company. That’s pretty brave to me.”

Ed beamed up at him, then softly mumbled, “maybe, but I’m afraid. I’m afraid of what will happen and of what we’ll find.”

“...It’s good to have a healthy dose of fear, Ed. It keeps you from doing a whole bunch of stupid things. As long as you don’t let your fear rule your life, I find it’s good to be a little frightened. ...Just not too much.”

“Not too much,” Ed repeated under his breath. He stared down to the burning city, then took a deep breath, puffed out his chest, and seized Roy’s hand fully. “Let’s go then! Not too much!”

“O—kay,” Roy said, following the tugging boy. He darted his eyes all around to ensure that no soldiers found them, then took the lead when Ed stopped near to a burning building, pulling him around into the general direction of that clear area. 

Roy spotted it first, the gentle uprising of a wall. At first he didn’t recognize what it was, because it came out of the ground at an angle, and no Ishvalan architecture that he had seen had looked like that. 

“Ed—” he said, heart quickly lodging into his throat. He knew—he knew what something like this was. Where an alchemist crafted a wall to trap escaping Ishvalans, and soldiers pinned them and annihilated them (and he burned them alive). And he knew—he  _ knew  _ Ed wouldn’t want to—

Ed quickly came to a halt, a sound like a strangled gasp escaping his throat, and Roy just had to turn his head to see exactly what he didn’t want Ed to see. 

The wall maxed out at twenty feet tall, surely unnecessary but ensuring that no Ishvalans escaped. Due to the law of equivalent exchange, a trench formed at the base of the wall, further trapping the Ishvalans it had grown in front of. 

And all of those trapped Ishvalans. Every single one of them. They laid there, at the base of the wall, at the bottom of the trench. Dead. Every single one of them. 

He felt Ed start shaking beside him, but not even he could tear his eyes from the bloody massacre before him. It was entirely different seeing it from this side, than it was seeing them as enemy soldiers. 

There had to be twenty or more Ishvalans littered in the trench. Mostly men, a few women, a few children even, all of them spattered with bullet holes. The sand around them was stained red with dried blood, whatever hadn’t already dried on their skin. Their faces were still stretched, mouths open wide in silent screams as their life drained from them. 

Ed’s hand tightened hard in his, so hard Roy could feel his nails digging into the back of his hand. Then, before Roy could react, Ed’s hand slipped from his as the boy fell to his knees. 

Ed went low and pressed his forehead into the sand, hands near to his face. He was speaking quickly in Ishvalan, words jumbled and broken with weak cracks. His shaggy hair fell forward and covered most of his face. His entire body shook with grief as he likely prayed for a safe ascent to Ishval for his deceased countrymen. 

Roy would have joined him, as Ed had had him doing all day, but that felt too much like leaping over a line not meant to be crossed. These people were not his people. He had had a hand in killing them, in some indirect way. Attempting to join Ed would feel like he was intruding on something he had no part in, and at least right then, Roy couldn’t stand to do that. 

Ed stayed there, bowed low in the sand, for several minutes, before he stopped mumbling. He slumped, and his entire body shook violently as a sob ripped from his throat. Once he regained the energy, he forced himself up, stood, and turned into the nearest source of warmth he could find.

Roy lowered his hand to the boy’s head as he wept fiercely into his suncoat. He stared forward at the scene before him, stroking Ed’s dirty hair, mourning to himself the only way he knew how. These weren’t his people, but they were a great loss, and it meant so much more when one of their own people wept for them beside him. 

As he stood there, attempting pathetically to soothe a child who could not be soothed, his mind drifted to the place they were going, the boy, and his family. If Kimblee of all people had been in the district of Askia, it was a wonder that any of them were still alive. Kimblee must have had strict order to scout, not kill. Roy didn’t want know the sort of plans this could possibly be for, but a sick knot in his belly formed. They could not be good ones, not for the Ishvalan people. 

Whomever had granted Kimblee those orders had granted those Ishvalans one small mercy. Had he not had them, any of the children dead in that ditch could have been Ed. 

He curled his hand a little in the boy’s hair and finally tore his eyes from the grotesque scene. Ed was still shaking and sobbing desperately, heartbroken and grieving, not likely to move any time soon. 

“...Come on, Ed. We need to move.”

Roy doubted it was what the boy wanted, but he had little choice. He pried his coat from the boy’s fingertips and crouched, leading the boy forward to nestle safely against his chest. Ed latched onto him, looping his arms around Roy’s neck and burying his face into his shoulder. Roy scooped him up and wrapped Ed’s legs safely around his torso, one arm supporting his rump while the other stroked the back of his head, comforting him the best way that he knew how. 

He turned Ed’s face into his neck so he wouldn’t have to see his dead countrymen and carried him toward the clear area once more, hopefully towards safety. 

Despite the fact that this town was only recently taken, and there were likely still both Amestrian soldiers and Ishvalan warriors hanging about, Roy couldn’t make himself hush Ed. He had just found twenty or more of his countrymen dead in a ditch with no care or respect given, and Roy couldn’t take his chance to grieve away from him. If he heard approaching footsteps, maybe he would, but not right then. 

So he carried Ed off, found a broken building nearby and, after checking it for animals or soldiers, slid inside. 

Ed backed himself into the corner when Roy set him down. He gathered his knees to his chest, and buried his face into his arms, ignoring the world around him. Roy let him be and unpacked quietly. He laid out the sleep sack as invitingly as possible, hoping to draw Ed into it so he could rest his tired mind. But Ed didn’t respond, didn’t even seem to notice, so after a moment, Roy left him to it to continue unpacking quietly. He set out the dented old tray and put out only a little food—rations were starting to run low, but Roy wasn’t all that surprised. He could go a little hungry. 

Ed didn’t even move. 

“Come eat, Ed,” Roy said softly, almost afraid to interrupt his grieving. 

But Ed didn’t say anything, and even when he looked up at Roy and spotted the tray, he just turned his head away. Even as his stomach rumbled, he clearly had no desire for food. 

“Ed, you need to eat,” Roy tried again, putting a little more authority in his voice. Even though his rank clearly had no meaning to Ed, Roy still didn’t like that it—that  _ he _ —was being ignored, even though he just wanted what was best for the kid. “Kid.”

“Not hungry,” Ed mumbled, turning his head further away to instead look at the wall. “I’m not… at all hungry.”

“You need to eat, whether you’re hungry or not.”

Ed didn’t even respond to that, leaning his temple onto his knees. He was determined to ignore Roy, whatever it took. But he hadn’t eaten since early that afternoon, and he  _ had _ to eat. 

But then, after that grotesque and bloody sight, Roy supposed he wouldn’t have been able to stomach not even a single thing, either. The thought of food was becoming a little turn off-ish for him, too. 

...They would eat in the morning. It could help extend their rations, at least a little bit. They would eat right away in the morning, and then be off into Ishvalan territory right after. 

“...At least come and drink some water, Ed. You won’t last without water.”

Ed turned his head to look at Roy when he held out the canteen. He ran his tongue through his mouth, turned back to his knees, then must have decided that Roy was right, because he shifted and crawled over onto the sleep sack beside Roy, taking the canteen. He sat and uncapped the canteen, taking a couple mouthfuls, then wordlessly handed the canteen over to Roy. Roy shook what was left, only enough for a few more mouthfuls. They used the same amount of water today as they did the past the entire trip; tomorrow they would  _ have _ to be more careful. The map said they were closing in on Askia, and if they traveled at the same pace as they had today, then perhaps they had not much more than a day’s journey ahead of them, but he would rather not risk it, and accidentally get themselves killed. A single drop of water could be the difference between life and death, as they were. 

“Now tuck in,” Roy said softly, patting the open gap of the sack invitingly. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us. You should rest.”

Ed stared at the sleep sack beneath his feet, face mostly blank. Unlike last night, where he had screamed at the top of his lungs to be allowed to stay up and keep watch, he was pitifully silent. Roy would almost take the screaming child of the night prior, to this silent, grieving one, were it not a risk to their lives. 

Ed, still blank faced, nodded silently. He kicked the fold over and scooted his toes in, wiggling about until he was down enough, then laid back against the thin pillow and turned onto his side, away from Roy. He wasn’t likely to fall asleep just yet, but at least he was resting.

So, Roy leaned back against the wall, crossed his ankles, and settled in for the long haul. Hopefully they would have time for a good, full rest before they had to escape in the morning. 

The night stretched on with the sound of fire crackling in the distance and the occasional bark of gunfire. On the occasion Roy leaned over to see if his companion slept, but every time he looked he saw Ed staring ahead, tears slowly tracking down his cheeks. He made to comfort Ed each time, but didn’t know what he was to do or say, so he hesitated, then dropped the notion and put his hand back in his lap. What could one man, a  _ killer _ , do for a victim of war anyway?

“...It’s so loud,” Ed said long after silence had settled. Roy peered down at him, curious. “The fire. The guns. The. The everything. It’s all so loud.”

Roy looked up in the general direction of the battlefield, stomach twisting with sick. If he were paying attention to it, he supposed Ed was right. The fire and gunblasts were like a constant throb, an unfailing noise. Like the sound of a fan, or the radio once programming was done for the evening, but this was so much worse, so much more violent, that brought with it the stinging scent of death and destruction. Even from here he could smell the fire, even though the smoke did not near them and then were safely settled far from it all, he knew the smell far too well, could pick it up like a tracking dog. He supposed that was one of the many benefits—or perhaps the opposite of that—to being the Flame Alchemist.

“...It is.”

Ed shifted his legs and kicked the sack, then curled tighter in its warmth. There was another smatter of gunfire, another sharp blast, and Ed flinched hard and leaned his head down, as if protecting himself. “...I wish it would stop.”

“So do I,” Roy agreed earnestly. Stop, this whole entire horrible war should  _ stop _ , just so all of them could go home and not fear for their lives, for their own sanity and humanity. “Believe me, kid, so do I.”

Ed removed a hand from the sack and stretched his whole arm, curling the hand back beneath his head. “I want my mama.”

Roy frowned softly, scootching a little closer to the small body. The kid really did need to get to sleep, as they would have to get moving early in the morning, but his own racing thoughts clearly weren’t going to let him rest. He reached his hand out and settled it on his shoulder, finally making the move to offer what little comfort he could. 

Except that Ed immediately flinched hard and flung his gaze back over his shoulder. Roy lifted his hand to show he had no ill intentions, saying softly, “hey, it’s me, it’s me…” Ed calmed after a minute, so Roy softly continued, “I know. I know I’m not your mother, and I know I’m Amestrian. I’m not perfect, but right now… can I help you?”

Ed said nothing for a moment, then he turned back to face the battlefield. If Roy hadn’t been paying him careful attention, he might have missed the way that Ed’s shoulder lifted in a silent, solemn shrug. 

Still. Roy would take what he could get. He squeezed his shoulder, then shifted his hand a little, running his knuckles up and down Ed’s spine. 

They stayed blissfully silent for a little while longer before Ed, even quieter than before, said, “do you want to come in…?”

“Come in?”

Ed kicked the fabric, and Roy instantly knew what he meant. He was offering the share the sleep sack with Roy. Perhaps for a little added safety, perhaps so he could get some better sleep? Roy couldn’t be sure. 

“Oh. No, that’s alright, Ed. I won’t do that to you. Besides, if I climb in, I might get all snuggly and comfortable, and I might not be able to stay up to keep watch. You can have that whole thing all to yourself.”

Ed glanced back over his shoulder, and Roy saw the hidden disapproval in his eyes—again, at being treated like a little kid, Roy assumed. Interesting, how daytime Ed and nighttime Ed seemed to be very different people. Although he supposed being exposed to trauma like that, such a scene, so close to bedtime would be enough to sour anyone’s mood. It certainly wasn’t making Roy too happy. 

“Why don’t you go to sleep, Ed. Go to sleep so we can start moving early in the morning.”

Ed made a little noise at the back of his throat, then twisted around in the sack, crossing his arms on the pillow. He laid flat on his tummy, as if offering Roy the best back rubbing location possible. Roy chuckled to himself and shifted around, back to rubbing his back in a much more accessible location. 

“...Good night, Roy.”

Roy took a second to fight off the smile that formed, then very softly whispered, “sleep well, Ed. See you in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M STILL ON TIME  
> Goal for next chapter is March 31st!  
> I almost forgot to post here, only to ffn ;-;


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, y'all! Just wanted to apologize for lateness. Some Sacrifices distracted me, then I lost motivation, and now I'm in school, so I don't know how updates will look. I'll try my best though! :)

His head was bent low to his chest, chin to his collarbone, when he awoke blearily, and just lifting his head back up to a proper position was a painful and arduous task. He groaned to himself and started rolling his neck. Even though he was hardly more than twenty, he could feel it in his bones—he was getting _old_.

Neck feeling a little looser, he paused and listened in. A repeat of yesterday was not what he wanted, and any soldiers sneaking up on them could cause exactly that.

The wind howled, mercifully quiet, but he could hear nothing else but the far off crack of a gun and the occasional pop from the flames that still burned. No crunching of sand beneath boots, no shifting as an enemy tried to slither along, nothing.

They were safe.

He slumped weakly against the wall, a soft noise of relief breathing from his lips. At least he could give the kid a little more rest. They’d have to get moving soon, but there was no danger in sitting and resting, maybe eating before they actually got going.

So he stretched out his toes, looked all around, and listened to the kid snore. Yellow sunlight was shining in through the broken window as the sun rose, light breaching near to the foot of the sleep sack. Once the sun reached the lump of Ed’s body, perhaps then they’d move. Until then, just a few more moments of rest.

Birds twittered nervously outside, so Roy leaned his head back and focused on that. On the songs they sang and their talons clicking against the broken stone houses. Even though the songs they sang weren’t the same songs as from Master Hawkeye’s, or from home, it was still easy to get lost in them, close his eyes, and pretend that it was just another lazy Saturday morning reading books in his mother’s study.

After several minutes and the sound of Ed tossing in the sack, Roy opened his eyes again and got an eyeful of the old rundown building they were calling shelter. There was nothing special to it, nothing different from the other broken buildings they had come across as they traveled. There was an old table standing in the far corner with some some of half-burnt tapestry up the wall. The sitting area they were in was small, and a second mystery door stood not too far from them. For some reason, despite knowing that they were probably dipping into a house, it had never occurred to him that actual people had _lived_ here, had devoted hours, days, even weeks, months, and years to making this place their home.

He took one glance down at Ed, who slept on. His little legs were at all angles in the sack, and he laid half on his side with both arms askew. This was the second night he’d noticed him like this in a row—the kid was apparently a very active sleeper.

Confirmed that Ed was still asleep, and would likely sleep for a while, Roy moved to his hands and knees. He wasn’t sure how far they were from the violence, but he didn’t want to risk standing and getting his head blown off. It felt almost as if he was intruding on something private and intimate, but his curiosity, and even partly his guilt, was telling him to take a look around and see who he had done his horrible, damning things to.

It was a morbid curiosity, but he thought he at least owed the Ishvalan people that much. To know, to be aware of fully, the kind of people he had killed.  

He crawled over to the door and twisted the knob, pulling it open and peering in. It was a small room, with another open door at the back that looked like it led toward a modern-ish bathroom. In this room there stood the remains of a bed. There had surely been a fire somewhere in here, judging by the state of the frame and the black color of what was left of the mattress. There also stood a storage dresser to the far side, just beneath a window looking west. The dresser was black around the bottom but the color didn’t stretch very far, so the fire didn’t reach this for long before it was put out.

Roy rose to his knees and snuck over to the dresser, wary of the window but morbid curiosity, once more, taking over. He spotted a rectangular thing face down atop the dresser, the corners broken and separated from one another. He reached out and set it right, getting an eyeful of a people he had never really seen.

It was a photo. The glass was cracked in multiple places, as if it had just plummeted and landed there. It must not have broken very long ago, since there was little signs of damage to the photo. Roy carefully inched the photo out of its broken confines, then pressed his back to the dresser and stared.

In it there was an elderly couple. Wrinkles creased their faces in more places than Roy had the time to count. Still, they smiled at the camera like they hadn’t a care in the world. The photo wasn’t fully colored yet; it must have been taken a while ago, although different hues of browns suggested that it wasn’t all that long ago. Despite the lacking color, Roy felt their eyes, surely red like the rest of their people, red like Ed, boring into his soul.

The couple stood above four children, all of whom were giggling and playing, like they had no control. The woman was holding a fifth child, an infant who napped, while the man had an arm wrapped around the biggest girl who smiled up at him like he was the greatest thing ever.

They were… just like any Amestrian family. Sure, they all wore sashes and plain clothes, and their skin was clearly darker than any photo that Roy had seen from that era, but if you overlooked the physical features, they were like any other Amestrian family.

Roy flipped the photo over, unable to look into red eyes any longer. There were words printed on the bottom, half in modern Ishvalan and half in Amestrian, like someone had translated it. Roy knew very few words of Ishvalan, one of which was printed here and read “baby” in Amestrian. The paragraph below clearly spelled out what was written above.

  1. _Momma and Poppa, with Ruthie (8), Alana (6), Alec (5), Gianna (4), and baby Charisa (1). Momma and Poppa bought toys!_



Grandparents, spending time with their grandkids before it all went to shit. If it was 1863, then Roy imagined that the kids were parents, maybe even young grandparents themselves. The Ishvalans had never had an easy life, constantly under attack it seemed, but in the 1860s, if Roy could remember correctly, those kids would have grown up relatively peacefully. Some Amestrian soldiers at their doors maybe, occupying the land since it was less than a decade from being annexed, but little actual conflict.

The photo was remarkably… humanizing, in a way that sent his stomach into knots. How many other grandparents, parents, and children had he murdered because someone called him “Major Flame”? He didn’t even want to think about that. He knew it had to be somewhere up in the triple digits.

“Roy?”

Roy started at the soft voice and looked up at the doorway to the sitting area. Ed stood there, eyes bleary and drowsy. His hair was a disaster, his clothes rumpled with sleep, his eyelids half drooped like he was about to fall back asleep. Roy knew from experience—those sleep sacks were _not_ conducive to a good night’s rest. They would be in Ishvalan territory soon, and all the closer to the sprouting battlefield. Now more than ever they would have to stay quiet to avoid recapture, or death. Maybe he’d carry the kid and let him nap again. It’d keep him quiet and entertained.

“Ed,” he said, lifting two fingers in a soft wave. “Keep your head down.”

Ed’s eyes darted up to the open window and, though he seemed a little skeptical that anything would happen, he dropped to his knees and crawled over to kneel in front of Roy. “What are you doing?” he whispered, looking at the photo in Roy’s hand.

 _Learning what sort of people I’ve killed_ , he didn’t say. Ed didn’t have to know the more gruesome details of his thoughts. “I’ve never thought of the Ishvalans as… as _peopl_ e,” he admitted softly. Of course, he thought they were human because _of course_ they were human. But he, like many people, imagined them in the back of his mind as some foreign tribes of an uncivilized people, when his censor was gone or when he stopped thinking rationally. The sameness of it all, the similarities of the picture to some of the pictures he’d seen on Hughes’ dresser, on Master Hawkeye’s walls, hell even in the upper rooms of his own mother’s bar, put a stark reality on what he was killing. They were… _people_.

Ed’s eyes darkened with confusion. “What did you think I was?” he wondered, clearly thinking Roy thought they were some sort of nonhuman thing.

“That’s not what I—I thought _you_ were a person, of course,” Roy explained. “But like… I don’t know. You’re all so… the _same_ as us Amestrians.”

“Is it easier for soldiers to kill someone who isn’t like you Amestrians?” Ed asked, genuine curiosity alight in his eyes. There was only a touch of sarcasm in his voice, only an inkling of “ _of course we’re people, we shouldn’t be easy to kill”_ in his tone.

“...Sometimes, for some people. It just kind of makes you wonder… what are we fighting our own people, what are we _killing_ our own people for?”

“Hmm,” Ed seemed to agree. He had probably wondered the same thing, as had countless people in his village. He reached out and took the photo and turned it over, big red eyes scanning over it. He flipped it over and read the back, then declared, “I’m gonna keep this.”

“Excuse—Ed, that doesn’t belong to you. You shouldn’t just take it.” It wouldn’t be the first time an Ishvalan’s house had been looted, but taking a photo like that seemed like a slap in the face. It was useless, and seemed far too intimate.

Ed turned the photo back over and tapped the name of the baby, Charisa. “She’s my neighbor! This must have been her mama’s house. I’ll give this to her!”

“Are you—sure?”

“Mhmm!” Ed shoved the photo into his pocket, then turned around and crawled back to the sitting room. “Can we eat? I’m hungry.”

Roy sighed, but smiled softly and followed. At least he was feeling much better from last night. “Sure, Ed. We don’t have much left, though, so we have to conserve.”

“We’ll be home soon, anyway,” Ed said, crawling back over to the rumpled sleep sack. There was no way he could know that for sure, but he decided not to protest. If his map was in any way accurate, they _were_ making pretty good time.

* * *

 By the time they sat through a prayer, ate, and packed up, the sun was well on its way to risen. Roy didn’t dare pull out his pocketwatch to check, but he guessed it was nearly nine already. A late start like that meant that he doubted they would reach Askia by nightfall, and being so deep in Ishvalan territory, so close to all the attacks and a possible target for scouts, meant that Roy didn’t want to travel too long past sunset.

“Stay very quiet, Ed,” Roy told him, their hands linked together. Ed claimed that he wasn’t tired yet, and would absolutely _not_ be carried, but Roy didn’t want to risk him wandering off, or Roy not being able to tug him to safety, so Ed had agreed to holding hands like they were crossing the street—Ed hadn’t seemed to mind before, anyway.

“I know, I am,” Ed assured under his breath. He squeezed Roy’s hand with his pinky and curled his fingernails against Roy’s hand.

They were only a few steps from the current border between Ishvalan and Amestrian territory. To be safe, Roy had dragged Ed back out of Hubard, so they could circle around the city where they were further from troops and hiding places and all around safer. Debatably, at least, they were safe; no buildings meant there were only dunes to hide behind, and you couldn't exactly suddenly appear from behind those.

Roy wound Ed’s hand in his grip and gave it a hard squeeze. He was nervous, probably for nothing, but crossing into Ishvalan territory meant that the Amestrians they came across may not distinguish them from the Ishvalans they were killing. They would be in grave danger… but Ed had to get home. More than anything, Ed had to get home.

_If you can cross two days of desert with only a five-year-old for company, if you can leave your family to go train in the military academy for years, if you can leave your entire nation behind to fight in a WAR, then dammit, you coward, you can do this!_

Ed’s little hand squeezed back, and Roy took heart in the tiny expression of support. He took a step forward, let Ed take two to catch up, and then led the kid right over the borders of the city back into the desert.

...They didn’t immediately explode spontaneously, nor were they shot dead.

Despite knowing that wasn’t likely to happen, Roy felt a surge of relief cool his belly. He took careful steps into the desert, looking all around for attackers or intruders, and they walked on.

 _Racist fuck_ , he thought of himself, but didn’t say it aloud, because he didn’t want Ed to know what he had been thinking.

* * *

The tossing and turning of the night before caught up to Ed, and by the time they stopped for lunch and prayer, he was dragging his toes in the hot sand and Roy had to tug him along. Roy removed his coat to use as a sunshade above them and swept Ed around into the gap between his legs. He handed the canteen to Ed, who downed probably a little more than he should have, and popped a few pieces of food into his mouth. Ed wasn’t terribly hungry, at least not for that junk, and once he finished chewing, he turned onto his side and used Roy’s thigh as a pillow. Roy paused to protest, but didn’t even get a word out before he saw how comfortable Ed appeared to be.  Ed didn’t fall asleep, instead turning one crimson eye up at him, as if to ask “Are you _really_ going to make me move? When I’m like _this?_ ”

...Unfortunately, imagination-Ed made a very compelling argument. The kid looked comfy in his place, and besides, hadn’t Roy told himself he’d let Ed nap?

“Just… don’t fall asleep, yet, alright? Wait until we’re moving.”

Ed yawned and stretched his toes in his sandals. His eyes stayed blissfully open though, watching as Roy pulled his map from his uniform for consultation. As Roy suspected—even moving at the pace they were moving, they still had plenty of ground to cover before they reached the next town of Manje’a, let alone Askia. Askia and Manje’a were at least fairly close to one another, maybe an hour or two’s walk. If they reached Manje’a by nightfall, Roy would be pleased. Then they could rest up and find Ed’s family in the morning. He wasn’t sure how provisions would last, but they had skipped a few meals already, what was one more?

“Ed,” he said softly. Despite being nowhere near a city and being in an area with terrible acoustics, what with the open air and absorbent sand, Roy spoke no louder than under his breath. He didn’t want to risk any complications.

Ed made a noise and looked up at him, clearly halfway to napping but far too curious (and perhaps obedient?) to fall asleep now.

“Ed, I don’t think we’re going to find your family today.”

“What?” Ed asked. There was a bite of accusation in his voice, but not much. Roy had made no promises, after all.

“We won’t reach Askia tonight. But do you see this city here, Ed? Mange’a? That’s where we’ll take a break and sleep. In the morning we’ll find your mom and your brother. Sound like a plan?”

Ed blinked a lazy blink at him, then sighed theatrically and nodded. “Yeah, _fine_ ,” he sighed. “Sounds like a plan.”

“You’ll see your mom in the morning,” Roy hummed. Map officially consulted, he folded it up and packed it back into his bag. He maneuvered Ed out of his lap and stood, stretched, and fitted his suncoat back on. He then scooped the kid into his arms, making a nest out of his elbow. Ed made a tiny squeak but didn’t protest otherwise️. He just leaned his head forward against Roy’s shoulder and wrapped lazy arms around his neck.

“You’ll like my mama,” Ed mumbled sleepily. He leaned his cheek on Roy’s shoulder and lifted his arm to poke Roy’s unsuspecting cheek. “She’s real nice.”

“If she’s nice like you, then we’ll have to see.”

Ed gasped, looking absolutely affronted despite gentle, sleepy humor flickering in his eyes, and turned his head to lean his opposite cheek on Roy’s shoulder blade, looking away pointedly. “She’s nice like Al, and Al’s _very_ nice. Al and Mama are the kinda nice that would even be nice to you ‘Mestrians. She plays games with me and Al, and she reads the Book of the Prophesied to us. Maybe she’ll read it to you.”

Roy laughed at that, softly and under his breath. “I don’t think she’ll want to read your holy book to me, Ed. I don’t practice, remember? If you know how to read, then maybe _you_ can read it to me instead.”

Ed scoffed and didn’t say yea or nay, instead grumbling, “ _if_ I know how to read…” He fell silent, then after a moment he swapped cheeks again and reached his hand up to give Roy’s ear a mighty tug. “Hey. Hey Roy.”

“Ow! What?” Roy batted Ed’s little hand away and rubbed his sore ear. What the hell was that for?

“Roy, can I have some more water, please? Just a little. I’m thirsty.”

Roy paused, hand quickly going down to the canteen. To be honest, they didn’t have a whole lot left. Surely it would last them until the end of the day, but he wasn’t sure about after that.

...Still, if they camped on the far side of Mange’a, then they really wouldn’t have far to walk. Surely Askia would have water for them when they got there. Well, maybe not for _him_ … but they weren’t about to kill Ed over a little water.

“...Sure. Only a little though, remember. We only have a little bit left.” Roy unhooked the clip from his bag with a little work and passed it to Ed. Ed quickly unscrewed the cap and pushed himself off Roy’s shoulder, tossing back a little water. Officially quenched, he leaned his head back down and handed the canteen back to Roy, the cap dangling off the little rubber connector. “Here you go.”

“...Thanks.” Roy considered the canteen, then tossed back a small mouthful of water and screwed the cap back into place. He hooked it back onto his pack and situated Ed a little differently on his arm.

“Don’t worry, Roy,” Ed said, tugging on the collar of his uniform then draping his hand over his shoulder. “We’ll be home soon! We have water there! And Mama will help you, because you helped me. Don’t worry.”

Roy just smiled softly and leaned his head to the side, cheek touching Ed’s shaggy white hair. “...That easy for you, huh?”

“Yeah…” Ed’s voice lilted softly. He breathed a huge breath against Roy’s neck and closed his eyes sleepily. He probably had only a few more minutes of consciousness before Roy was again awake alone.

Roy let him be, only adjusting just enough so that Ed was a little higher against his body and wasn’t disturbing any buttons or touching any watches. Ed’s hand tightened around his neck, fingers twitching against the chain of Roy’s dogtags but only disturbing them minimally.

“...Must be nice.”

* * *

The walk to Mange’a was mostly silent and not at all easy. He didn’t face any danger, at least, but the sun beat down on him relentlessly like an endless waterfall (if only), and though Ed at five years old was rather light, the weight was still heavy on his arm. Ed woke up infrequently, mostly to mumble quiet “when will we be there”s and then fall back asleep before Roy had an answer for him. He stopped for water at one point, and woke Ed up to have a sip. Ed stayed up for maybe half a mile’s walking distance before he tuckered back out and went on napping in the heat. Roy noted nervously that there was very little water left; if they didn’t drink until they were settled in Mange’a, it would last them the evening, but there was no way they would have water in the morning unless Roy didn’t drink.

Ed awoke for good just as the sky turned red and the sun started its lonesome descent. He stretched his toes and lifted his head, looking all around, before he finally asked “we’re still not there yet?”

“Not yet, but soon,” Roy said gently. That was the honest to goodness truth. If he was following his map right, and there wasn’t anything between Hubard and Mange’a, then in fact he could see Mange’a’s tiny peaks on the horizon. They still had a ways to go, a little less than an hour, but it was _there._ “We’ll stop to eat and drink there. Do you want to walk?”

Ed looked around again, at the sand, then wiggled mightily without giving a verbal answer. Roy quickly got the message and crouched to let him down without dropping him. “Is that it, all the way out there?” Ed asked, hooking his hand in Roy’s when Roy expectantly held his out. He pointed to the outline in the distance, squinting to see.

“I think so. Soon. Just be patient.”

“...Okay.”

The rest of the walk there was mostly silent. Much to Roy’s relief, even from this distance he could see that Mange’a was still mostly intact. The Amestrian military hadn’t yet marched on Mange’a. If there was any military there at all, it was probably just scouts searching out the place. It was an even smaller community than Hubard, as far as Roy could tell. According to Ed, Askia wasn’t very big either. The further east, the further away from Amestris they got, the smaller the communities were. Roy supposed that made sense. Amestris would be the easiest source of trade and commerce. Heading further east, past Ishval, was Xing, and that was a journey of weeks if not months on foot. The effort to get there would simply not be worth what little they could get that wouldn’t be consumed on the trip home.

But as the sun dipped lower, Roy noticed that no lights flickered on in Mange’a. Even as they approached, there were no wondering eyes peeking out of lit windows. From Roy’s distance, it appeared that there wasn’t any life in Mange’a. Had the city been abandoned? Had its occupants fled further east in the hopes of safety? Were the Ishvalans all holed up in one collective area, in the hopes of making themselves as small a target and as easily missable as possible?

…Whatever the reason, it would make getting to and through the city that much easier.

Reaching Mange’a revealed just as Roy suspected—no damage, but no lights. Peering into a window proved that; no one was home, and it looked as if that development was rather recent. The city was silent besides the howling of the wind between the stone buildings. The red sun gleamed off the stone wherever it wasn’t broken, but that was all the light provided by this place.

“We can stop there,” Ed said, pointing out his fifth house at random. Despite napping much of the day away, he was probably a little hungry and just wanted to sit down and sleep. “Or there, or there.”

“Let’s get closer to the far end. Just a few more blocks,” Roy explained softly. He’d gone through the thought process in his own head but Ed certainly wasn’t a mind reader. “That way we won’t have as far to go in the morning.”

Ed looked at the next empty house they passed, then sighed loudly and said, “okay, you’re the boss.”

“Quiet, Ed. We’ll stop soon.”

True to his word, they stopped half a block away, at a house with one small window facing the street and no identifying markers. He tugged Ed into the door and peeked inside. The same with everywhere else, no one was inside. The place was empty.

Roy closed the door behind him and crouched beneath the light of the window. He removed his bag and shook out the sleep sack. Ed took a seat on it, waiting and watching as Roy unpacked the food and water.

“...There’s not much,” Ed mumbled, poking at the swatch of food that was hardly enough for the both of them. “Will we have enough for in the morning?”

“...Well…” Roy bit his inner cheek and glanced a forlorn glance to the kid. He had a point. There wasn’t enough left to split between the two of them for two meals. “Maybe… maybe there’s some food here?” Roy stood and scootched over the kitchen. There appeared to be a small storage space, maybe even the equivalent of a fridge.

“We’re gonna steal their food?” Ed wondered, brows knitting. He tugged on his sleeve nervously, clearly not liking the idea. Roy wasn’t a _huge_ fan himself, but, well… desperate times called for desperate measures.

“Not stealing, just borrowing.”

“What,” Ed wondered almost snappishly. “Are we gonna give it back when we’re done with it?”

“I—“ To that, Roy didn’t really have a response; the answer was rather obvious. “Just—drink some water, Ed. You get mad when you’re thirsty.”

Ed grumbled quietly, still uncomfortable with the idea of taking someone else’s meals, but did as asked. Halfway through sipping, though, and just as Roy was about to dig through the house’s reserves, Ed paused, canteen falling from his lips.

“...Roy.”

Roy looked up at him, noting the wariness in his eyes, and paused as well. The wind howled, but Roy heard nothing besides. “Ed—“

“ _Roy_ , I hear something,” Ed said, capping the canteen. “I hear something coming.”

“It’s your imagination, Ed,” Roy said—or, he tried to say. He only got about halfway through the third word, though, when he, too, heard the crunching of sand under boot, even when neither Roy nor Ed moved at all. Ed made a distressed, keening little noise and stood, backing up to press his little back to the wall. Roy silently closed the stores and waited, listening on baited breath, afraid to move at all for fear of drawing its attention.

Then, Roy’s heart launched into his throat so fast he choked on his breath, just when a voice called, _far_ too close for Roy’s liking, “ _I think I heard some rats go by_!”

Roy looked to Ed, whose face was pale as a sheet. Roy’s very worst fears were being realized and they could do nothing. He knew that voice; not from someone in his squad, but he had heard it.

_It was the Amestrians._


	8. Chapter 8

Roy’s heart was choking him so hard that he didn’t bother trying to breathe. He listened intently to the voice outside, attempting to judge how far they were and how much time they had.

Whatever the answer was, what it really meant was  _ not enough _ .

Roy hit the floor on his knees as quietly as possible and crawled over to Ed, who shook with fright. Big, fat tears were collecting in Ed’s eyes, desperately frightened and clearly fearing they were about to be killed. Roy touched a finger to his lips to remind him to stay completely silent. He rolled up the sleep sack and strapped it into place, hooked up the canteen, and grabbed for the food. He handed the swatch of food to Ed, then swept the tiny boy into his arms and pressed his face right into his shoulder. He fitted his pack onto his back and crouched at the window, listening.

“They went this way!” called the Amestrian, sounding furious. “We’ll find those goddamn Ishvalans yet!”

“Come out come out wherever you are, little desert scum,” said another voice. They had to be half a block away, maybe less. They had almost no time. But if they were lucky, there would be a window in one of the back rooms they could vault out of. 

Using their voices as cover, Roy scurried out of the sitting room into one of the open doors. They were in a small hallway, with three more doors waiting to be checked. The first he checked was a bathroom, the second had a window but it was far too small. The third, though… the master bedroom had a good sized window, close enough to the ground that dropping Ed out of the window would cause him no harm. 

The windows had no glass, so that at least was one obstacle out of the way. Roy peered out of the window to see if there were any Amestrians who might spot them, but thankfully saw none. They found the window just in time, too—the front door was shoved in, if Roy was hearing right. If they had waited even a  _ minute _ …

No matter. There wasn’t time to worry about that now. 

Roy removed Ed from his front and leaned over a little to set him firmly on the ground outside. He shucked his pack and set it out as well, then set his foot on the nearby dresser and vaulted himself up. He flipped a little gracelessly out of the window, reclaimed his bag, and scooped his little charge up. 

“ _ I heard them! They’re back here!” _

_ “This way _ !”

In a panic, Roy took off in a random direction, hoping he wasn’t backtracking toward Hubard but hoping even more that he was putting distance between them and the soldiers. He could reorient himself in the morning, for now saving their lives was  _ all _ that mattered. 

_ “They went this way _ !” 

Ed gasped a terrified gasp into his shoulder and peeked up. He tugged on Roy’s suncoat frantically, sobbing, “Roy! Theyre coming!”

“I know, kid,” Roy gasped, thoroughly out of breath. There wasn’t enough distance between them and the Amestrians—he had to start turning corners if he wanted to find them a place to settle into. 

The nearest street he could take, he did. And the one immediately following that, he turned a corner, and then following that one he turned again. Four blocks down there was a building with a small window a little higher up; though it should be fairly easy for him to climb into, it would be fairly hard for a scout to peek through and find them. He didn’t even have the time to check if there was anything dangerous inside; for now, all that mattered was finding shelter. 

“Careful, kid!” 

He detached Ed and practically tossed him into the window. Inside, there was a scuff and Ed cried out a little, but no other noises to indicate anything unpleasant. Secondly, Roy tossed his bag in, hoping it wouldn’t land on Ed. Thirdly, he jumped and hooked as much of himself into the window as possible. Again with little grace, he flopped inside and leaned against the wall, heart pounding with adrenaline. He glanced around and spotted Ed, dragging his bag over. They were engulfed almost completely in darkness. 

“ _ Spread out! They can’t have gotten far!” _

Ed flinched and looked up to the window, fear glowing in his eyes like a cornered animal. Roy stripped his sun coat off and looked around. Wherever they were, Roy could see a huge storage crate, probably big enough for them to curl up in and be relatively safe. Roy went over and flipped up the lid, revealing it to be mostly empty besides a few tapestries. It would do. 

He scooped Ed up and set him inside, then set the pack beside him. Finally, he crouched in the crate, gathered the pack and Ed into his lap, and curled as small as possible. He dragged his suncoat over his head to make them one big white pile, then lowered the lid over their heads so they were completely hidden.

Ed buried his face into Roy’s chest and sobbed silently. Not knowing what else to do, Roy hugged him closer, begging for the Amestrians to be gone. 

They had to have been stuck there for an hour, completely silent, not even daring to breathe. The noises stopped after fifteen minutes or so, but Roy just didn’t want to risk it. Ed stopped crying probably five minutes after the noises, but he didn’t lift his face from Roy’s uniform, so Roy lifted his hand and stroked his hair, hoping to calm him. 

After a time, a voice called from several blocks away,  _ “THERE YOU ARE _ !” Roy clasped his arm around Ed, afraid they were somehow found out, but then another screamed, “GRENADE!”, and there was a loud  _ boom _ that shook the floor. 

Then, the screaming of a dozen or more people, of Ishvalans who thought they were safely hidden away, all suffering from a grenade blast. Roy pressed Ed’s face tighter against his chest as Ed started a weak little cry again.

Again, Roy waited a little while, but the screaming stopped and the voices stopped, and the following gunblasts started and stopped as Mange’a’s people were needlessly decimated, and at last Roy allowed himself a second to relax. He collected Ed all the closer to his chest and pulled his coat from his head. He lifted the lid of the container and peered around, found no danger, so silently he stood out of the box. He set his bag in the corner and unstrapped the sleep sack, laying it out against the wall directly beneath the window. 

“Ed, do you want food?”

Ed didn’t say anything, just shook his head, didn’t even bother to lift it from its place in Roy’s chest. Another evening without food—but Roy was feeling much the same way. They could eat in the morning.

Instead, he sat there in silence and rubbed Ed’s back, hoping to soothe. He ignored the thought niggling at his mind, that their escape likely lead the Ishvalans who had been hiding straight to their death. Even if it  _ was  _ true (and some part of Roy knew that it was), he couldn’t dwell on it, and give Ed a reason to think anything else was wrong. 

For now, they were safe. That safety could be momentary at best, but for the time being, all was well. And Roy supposed that would have to be enough. 

After a time, once Ed was calmed a little and the screaming managed to die down, Ed tugged weakly on Roy’s uniform, so Roy loosened his hold. Ed slid from his arms into his lap and then, without prompting, he slowly crawled down from his lap and into the sleep sack. He had slept late, and most of the day, but that was alright. It was time for bed; and Roy supposed that the earlier they got to sleep, the earlier they could wake up, the earlier Roy could get Ed home. 

Roy casually zipped the sack closed around Ed. Ed still sat up, watching the window above him, waiting for someone or something to come through and kill them. Roy was sat right next to him, pressed tightly together as a silent force, but Roy didn’t know how much Ed was taking heart in that silent protection. 

“...Roy?” 

“Yeah, Ed?”

Ed didn’t look away from the window, watching it tremulously like a guard dog. “...Can I have some more water? Please?” 

Roy’s eyes went soft, searching the kid’s unmoving face. They had so very little left, but—but with the way Ed had cried, Roy knew he had to be thirsty. Tear tracks stained his cheeks, smudged where his face had been against Roy’s coat but still there, practically glowing under the gleam of the fire shining in from outside. 

“...Sure, Ed.” They just wouldn’t drink in the morning. They weren’t far from Askia anyway. 

He leaned over and detached the canteen, uncapping it to hand it over. Ed gratefully took it, swishing it around before tossing back a mouthful like a shot. He licked his lips anxiously, staring at the canteen, then he looked up at Roy. Seeing that Roy was staring at the closed doorway instead of at him, he took heart and finished what he wanted. “Here, Roy. You can have the rest.”

Roy glanced down his way and pitched his brow, but a gentle smile greeted the kid, one soft and riddled with anxiety but there all the same. He reached out his hand and took the offered canteen, draining what little was left. He licked his lips, then capped it and set it aside. “Thanks, kid.”

Ed made a sound at the back of his throat, but said nothing further. 

The night stretched on, Ed and Roy each watching their respective possible place of attack. The warmth of Roy’s thigh warmed Ed’s body, but he didn’t scoot further away, not pushing him away but not being too needy. Roy thought that, the few times he glanced over, he made a sad picture, staring at the window as if waiting for the Grim Reaper—as if waiting for Ishvalla herself to step through and take them. 

“...Ed,” said Roy after a small stretch of time—if they didn’t nod off soon, they would wake up late and, though that wasn’t an  _ absolute _ disaster, it  _ did _ give the Amestrians plenty of time to scope out the town fully and track them down. “Ed, why don’t you lay down. I’ll keep watch for a while.”

“You do every night,” Ed mumbled, alrhough there was little protest in his voice. “ _ Every _ night.”

“I know. But I’m better at staying up late than you are.” That, and almost anything was better than watching Ed, all of five-nearly-six, descend into tumultuous thoughts that should never be on a child’s mind. 

Ed snorted under his breath, but the sound wasn’t terribly unamused or offended. Quietly though, he scootched down further into the sleep sack and laid his head down. This time, unlike the nights before, he turned onto his side and faced Roy, reaching his little hand forward to tangle his fingertips into the edges of his uniform jacket. “Are we almost to Mama, Roy?” 

Roy looked down to him, glad to be able to answer honestly. “I think so, Ed. Maybe three hours. I bet it’s even less.”

Ed snorted again, but there was a touch of disbelief coloring his crimson eyes and lilting his voice. His fingers tightened in Roy’s coat miserably. “...I bet we never get back.”

“What?”  _ Those _ were the exact tumultuous thoughts that should never be on a child’s mind that Roy was talking about! “Ed, I  _ just _ said—“

“They’re so close,” Ed mumbled, and though his voice was nearly silent, it was more than enough to shut Roy right up. “They’ll get us. They’ll—they’ll kill us, before we get anywhere. We’re n-never gonna get home. Will we?”

Roy stared down to the frightened child at his side, black eyes wide. This was no way for a child to be thinking. Sure, something at the back of Roy’s mind wondered the same thing, but—

_ No _ . Even if it was true that a frightened, cowardly part of Roy’s mind was under the impression that they would die before they arrived in Askia, before Roy could get him back to his mother, a much larger part of Roy knew that there was  _ no way in Hell _ that that would happen. Ed  _ was _ returning to his mother. They were only three hours away, and Ed  _ would  _ get home, whatever it took. 

“We will, Ed,” Roy said, his voice soft but allowing little room for complaint or opposition. “They’re not going to find us today, or tomorrow, or any day until you’re safe at home. And even then, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Ed sniffed and looked up at him, his eyes a bizarre mix of hopeful and defiant. “ _ How _ ,” he wondered, “how could you know that? How could you know? They’re so close—they’re—they’re outside…!”

“They found who they wanted to find,” Roy said, though his voice was bitter and sour with not-entirely-warranted guilt. “They’re not looking anymore. We’re safe.”

“How do you  _ kno _ w!” Ed snapped. He was halfway to sitting up again, halfway ready to jump right out of the sleep sack and—if Roy wasn’t mistaking the look in his face—deck him right there. 

“I  _ know _ ,” Roy said in return, voice quiet in the hopes to ease Ed back into quiet. “Because I was on their  _ side _ , remember? They’ve stopped looking. We  _ are _ safe.”

Ed’s mouth dropped open, as if he had momentarily forgotten that Roy was Amestrian.

“ _ And _ ,” Roy went on, “I am an adult. So I know these things. And you need to trust adults who want what’s good for you, Ed. I’ll get you home, safe and sound. I swear it.”

Ed’s big crimson eyes went from nervous and angry to hopeful and curious. A piece of him believed Roy—and most of the rest of him wanted to. Roy  _ needed _ that. He needed Ed to believe him; he couldn’t have Ed give up now, not when they were so damn close, and not because of a scare. 

So, Roy turned all of his attention from the dark and silent closed door, all of his attention from the window that glowed with outside fire, and turned it all to the boy at his side, this little boy he was starting to— _ damn him _ —care for.  He unzipped the sack and pulled back the flap, twisting to grab Ed beneath his underarms and pull him from the confines of the sack. He pulled Ed up into his lap and nestled him safely there, then pulled his hands from Ed’s underarms to pull him in closer, nestling him warmly in his embrace. “I know you’re afraid,” he said, face turned down to the boy so not even the wind could hear his gentle words. He drew his knees up so Ed was surrounded and safe on all sides. “But I  _ swear _ to you, Ed,  _ I will get you home _ . I just need you to trust me.”

Ed hiccuped a silent not-word, turning wide eyes up to his companion. Roy hadn’t really  _ held him _ before, not like this. Still—the way that Ed nuzzled his forehead against Roy’s chest after a moment told Roy all that he needed to know. He clearly appreciated that quiet affirmation. It was hard to be faithful, in anything, when fear and despair surrounded them on all sides. 

Roy adjusted himself a little, leaning back against the wall and taking Ed with him. Memories of his mother—foster and biological alike, though he only  _ really _ remembered one—attempting to soothe him after days of sickness or nights of nightmares came to him. His foster mother had been a big, gruff woman not all that good with children. She hadn’t been ready to take him in when she did. He loved her all the same, and she had done her all for him and Roy appreciated that more than words could say, but the gentle words of his biological mother’s lullaby did more to soothe him, what little he remembered, than his foster mother’s gruff affections.

Maybe—maybe what he remembered could help Ed, too.

So, Roy opened his mouth, and began to sing. 

If one were to ask Roy what, exactly, he just sang, he honestly wouldn’t have been able to answer truthfully. The song itself was from his mother’s native land. Though Roy himself was a full-blooded, bled green and white blood Amestrian, his mother had come directly from Xing to be with his father. According to his Aunt Chris, she hadn’t spoken much Amestrian at all. His father had spoken Xingese semi-fluently, and apparently had to act as translator. So the song that Roy sang—the one memory of his short time with his birth mother—was in the Yun dialect of Xingese. It wasn’t the same as the Ishvalan lullabies that would forever paint Ed’s mind like a mural, but it was better than nothing. 

It quickly became apparent that, as much as he tried, Roy Mustang was no singer. He had known it since he was young—his sisters pointed it out for him often enough. He missed his pitch more often than he hit it and his voice wavered with uncertainty. Somehow, though, the little child nestled in his arms didn’t seem to care in the slightest. Roy felt more than he saw Ed’s panic and fear leave him, his nerves calming and his breath slowing, his heart relaxing as Roy’s gentle words soothed him somehow. He nestled his head against the pocket of Roy’s chest, not seeming to care about the stars and stripes, not caring about the pins, just comfortable where he was, hands clenching in Roy’s uniform. He closed his eyes and listened to Roy’s gentle rumbles.

When Roy finished the song and closed his mouth, he turned down to check on his little charge. To his surprise, though, Ed was silent, fast asleep in his arms, fingers clenched in his uniform but otherwise completely at peace. He slept on somehow, even as the world ravaged around him and terrified thoughts tore his head in two, he slept on. Roy didn’t know how he did it, but… he wouldn’t ruin this good fortune. If Ed could sleep against the body of a killer, then Roy couldn’t stop him, not right then. If he could sleep against a murderer, then maybe the world wasn’t entirely as fucked up as he thought it was. Maybe… maybe it would all be okay. 

Roy tightened one arm around him, and the other coming around to support him as he scootched over. He secured himself a place in the sleep sack, the one Ed had been using the past several nights. He shoved his feet in and laid back, zipping it around them to make themselves as small a target as possible, and to keep Ed safe, warm, and secure against him. He laid back against the pathetic little pillow and began stroking Ed’s back again, soothing him into restful slumber, then began to sing his Xingese song under his breath. 

He knew he should  _ probably _ stay up to keep watch, as promised, but his own voice and thoughts of his mother were, as they always had, putting him to sleep. 

As he drifted off, thoughts of happier times, of his mother’s warm arms filled his mind. He leaned his head back, but before he could drift off completely, he looked down to the sleeping Ishvalan boy resting sleepily in his arms. Being held the same way his mothers had held him. And he wondered things to himself, wondered as he sang his Xingese song.

He had always been the youngest in his home, up until he was older, and even then his sisters were just his age. He had always been the baby brother of the bunch.

So he wondered to himself, that quiet evening as screaming descended in the distance and the moon shone bright overhead. 

Was this what it was like, having a little brother?

As he laid his head back and tightened his arms around the tiny bundle, he decided that, yes. It must be. And if that was the case, Roy Mustang was going to be the best big brother he could be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene was also written out in my tumblr post Safe and Sound ages ago, so if you wanna see an alternative, my tumblr is paybackraid! Also--I am still in school, but this is a chapter I've wanted to do LONG before I started posting, and it was short. Don't forget to comment!


	9. Chapter 9

Despite actually sleeping in the sleep sack for the first time in three—no, four days, Roy did not sleep well. The sack itself was not exactly comfortable; the only thing making it bearable back at the base was the cot that added a little extra cushion. The hard floor beneath him did nothing for him but put a crick in his neck and at the base of his spine.

And then, the  _nightmare_  didn't really help matters either. He couldn't remember it, couldn't remember anything but red eyes and bright flashes of light and the bark of a rifle.

Roy attempted to sit up in place, reaching up a hand to scrub his eyes, but he was being pinned down by—something, but he couldn't remember what. Why couldn't he remember what? It was starting to chip away at the sturdy wall that kept his shellshock safely tucked away.

Then, in an instant, whatever was on top of him shifted its weight and approached his face. Two big red eyes appeared in his blurry, sleepy vision, and an excitable voice said, "g'morning Roy!"

That was all it took.

The wall burst apart and the weight was tossed to the side as Roy threw himself up, sudden adrenaline pumping through his veins. Loud explosions darkened his hearing, and bright flashes of light blinded him as his nightmare suddenly brought itself into reality. He threw his hand up to protect himself, prepared to snap and roast whomever had snuck into the camp, unbeknownst to everyone else. He had to get up. He had to—had to warn them! Everyone! The ishvalans were attacking, they'd taken out the guards and they were in and they were all going to die and even though he snapped snapped snapped it wasn't working it wasn't  _working_  it wasn't—

"...Roy?"

A tiny voice, one that he knew, pelted through the explosions and penetrated his ears. The explosions died down until they made themselves aware as the loud beating of his own heart. The flashes of light soon became trickles of sunlight arcing in through the glassless window of the house that he—that he and… and Ed had found.

_Ed_.

Once Roy's vision was almost totally clear, he blinked hard and looked down to where Ed had been, resting on his chest from the night before. But he wasn't in the sack, or seated in his lap. Where had…?

He turned his head to the side and caught sight of the little Ishvalan, staring at him with wide, shaken eyes. Ed just watched him, afraid to approach him but more afraid of what would happen if he moved away.

"...Are you okay now, Roy?" Ed mumbled. When he shifted, Roy saw him put weight on his arm and wince. Only a second's worth of observation told him that Ed had scratched his arm up really well on the ground. It trickled blood very slowly, sand sticking to the small wound. Thankfully it was just a scratch… but that was far more than what he'd ever wanted to do to the kid.

"Ed," Roy said instead of answering. His pounding heart was starting to slow, but it wasn't calming down quickly enough. He felt like he could hardly breathe, like no matter how many breaths he took, it was doing him no good.

"You were talking in your sleep," Ed mumbled, moving to his knees.

"...What did I say?"

Ed shrugged and started to slowly crawl to him, now aware that Roy was fully awake and aware. "I dunno. Something about Master Hawkeye, I guess. You said he'd be mad. Who is that? Like an elder?"

Roy chuckled weakly. He could have said something so much worse… but he didn't. "Something like that," he said softly. "Sleep well?"

"Uh huh." Ed came to a stop at his side and rubbed nervously at his injured arm, smearing blood.

Roy frowned hard and took his arm, getting a look at the wound. It was so small and already healing, but kids were kids. Roy remembered being very young and scraping his knee, and being absolutely miserable until his sister Jessica came and "fixed" it for him, by smacking a bandage over it and giving it a big kiss. Roy wasn't about to kiss the kid's arm, but fashioning a little bandage over his arm would probably do the trick.

Roy grabbed his bag and opened it, wondering if he remembered to pack a first aid kit. He hadn't snuck into the nurses' tent so he doubted it…

He didn't find a first aid kit, or even a few stray bandages, but he did find an old, ratty undershirt. It was already torn in three different places, so Roy decided that tearing it in a fourth would be no great loss. He ripped along the bottom, then took Ed's arm back. Ed watched curiously what he was doing, but said nothing.

When Roy tied up the makeshift bandage, he patted where the cut was. Ed winced at the sting, but when Roy asked if it helped, Ed just nodded and said, "yeah, a little." The tiny affirmation made Roy smile just a little.

Roy helped Ed to his feet, then climbed out of the sack. "We should go, Ed. Are you excited? I imagine we'll run into your mother today!"

Ed bobbed his head happily, nerves giving way to impatient excitement. "I am! We'll see Mama and Al and Mikahal and Elder Sonra and Elder Jihora and everyone! They'll like you!"

Roy didn't say that he doubted that, even though he definitely did. "Well, I can't wait to meet them. Help me pack up, and we'll head out."

Ed nodded again. There was nothing left to pack but the empty canteen, but Ed scooped it up nonetheless and watched Roy roll up the sleep sack. Roy strapped the sack onto his bag, clipped the canteen beside the others, then secured the pack onto his back. Ed reached his hand up and hooked his fingertips in Roy's hand, so Roy quietly cracked open the door to the rest of the house, peeking out. There was no sound and appeared to be no movement. If anyone had been home even yesterday, they had been slaughtered by the Amestrians. Now all that mattered was that the Amestrians weren't raiding houses here, or hadn't hit this one yet. The only thing that he heard from outside was the howling of the wind; no crunching footsteps, no voices, no laughter. For now, at least, they were safe.

"Let's go," Roy said, squeezing Ed's fingertips. Ed nodded and let Roy lead him through the house.

They bypassed the kitchen completely, yesterday's protest of " _what, are we gonna give it back?_ " fresh on Roy's mind. They were only a few hours from Askia. Surely they could make it that long without food. He ignored the way his stomach protested, and the quieter growls coming from the stomach of the boy at his side. Just a few hours.

Roy cracked open the front door as slowly as possible, peeking his head out and peering all around. Ed hung onto his knees with Roy's free arm pressed to his back, keeping him there. Just in case someone sprung out of the shadows.

The wind howled, sand was tossed in his face sporadically, and the sun shone bright, but nothing but a bird way overhead moved. The coast was clear.

Roy lead Ed out and glanced to the sun. He was officially unoriented. After all the twisting, turning, and running, he had lost his way completely. But they were going east. Once they were clear out of Mange'a, safe from any Amestrians, then he could take out his map and reorient himself, but for now they were headed east.

Looping his fingertips back into Ed's, Roy led the child toward the sun, toward his home.

* * *

Roy had suspected three hours to Askia, but in reality it was probably even less time than that. It felt hotter and drier than usual, but Roy had the feeling that was because they had skipped out on water.

Buildings soon built up on the horizon, and Roy could practically feel Ed vibrating in his grip, like he knew exactly what that was and exactly who and what was awaiting him just over the dunes.

"Mama," Ed mumbled under his breath, tugging hard on Roy's hand. "Roy, how long?!"

Roy almost hushed him, but he chose to keep the paranoid part of him squashed. Ed hadn't been home in roughly five days now, and it wasn't fair of Roy to squash his excitement. "Maybe an hour.  _Maybe_."

Ed started shaking so fast Roy was certain he  _was_  just vibrating. "Almost there! We're almost there! Roy, Askia is the bestest city in all of Ishval. It's so beautiful, and it's not too big, and it's so fun! Mama and Al and me play all the time and maybe we'll play with you, too! Won't that be fun?"

Excited Ed was, apparently, a chatterer. The chattering made Roy smile, but the topic forwent the smile. Roy was far more likely to be executed the second they stepped into any populated Ishvalan town, than to be allowed to play with its inhabitants' children. And Roy couldn't even blame them for it. After all he had done, and would be forced to continue to do, likely, the very least he deserved was a bullet between his eyes.

Still. Ed didn't have to know his dark thoughts. Ed was less than an hour from home, and Roy couldn't take that from him.

"Yeah, Ed, lots of fun."

Ed's excited chattering soon tuckered him out just enough that they started to drag, so he spent the rest of the walk into Askia riding on Roy's arm, with his arms looped around Roy's neck.

Once they entered Askia, though, Roy found it to be much emptier than he expected.

"Ed…?"

Ed paid that no heed, and Roy wondered if that was normal for this town. For near deafening silence at ten in the morning. Roy had a feeling, though, that the kid was just too excited that he was somewhere familiar to notice.

"That way!" Ed threw out his finger and directed Roy toward the northernmost streets. Roy carried him into the town, almost wishing that he could feel eyes on his back if only so they hadn't come all this way for nothing.

As they neared a street with a small obelisk at the corners, Ed started writhing, struggling to get out of Roy's arms without a word. If Roy hadn't noticed just in time, Ed would have face planted into the sand, but as it was, Roy scooped Ed up mid-tilt and lowered him to the sand. Ed dug his toes into the loose sand, like somehow it was familiar to him, then took off running without a word.

Roy belted out a word he probably shouldn't say around five-nearly-six-year-olds, and pursued.

"They're here!" Ed cheered, strides in front of Roy. He was headed toward a modest home with a bright red front door and a wreath of branches on the front. "They're here they're here!"

Ed stopped at the door for only a second, just long enough to twist the knob and fling it open. He didn't bother waiting for Roy, had probably long forgotten about him. He darted into the house, in search of his family.

Roy came to a stop at the door entirely, listening in. He wanted to make sure that Ed was fine, but he also didn't want to intrude on an Ishvalan home, nor a family reunion. Really, once he was certain that Ed was with his family, he should try to make himself scarce. Paranoia was stating to make his skin prickle, and he didn't like it. The feeling that he was being watched had  _finally_  arrived—and with a vengeance. At least it no longer felt abandoned. Maybe it didn't feel like a bustling metropolis like Central, or even New Optain, but it felt like people were here.

"Mama!" Ed called with a long tail. "Mamaaaa! I'm home!"

Roy set his frown and waited to hear Ed's joyous "there you are!", or whatever he may say once his family was discovered. He'd leave once he knew, but not a moment before. He hadn't come all this way, delivered the kid home days away from his squad, only to have him die of the elements because he went out to find his missing family on his own.

He inhaled, and before he could exhale, a crunch of sand was behind him, and something metal pressed against his head. He froze up, heartbeat immediately quickening.

A voice, inky black and as furious as could be, snarled, "what are you doing here, Amestrian?"

Roy's hands slowly went into the air. He was no threat right then—or had no intention of being one, anyway. His only weapons were his spark gloves, tucked away in his pocket. He hadn't brought his sidearm (what was he thinking?) or any knives like Hughes had recommended to him hundreds of times.

"I am no threat," he informed them slowly, hoping he could convince them. If they were to kill him, then at least they could wait until they took Ed and were long gone. He didn't want Ed seeing anything like that.

"You're Amestrian. More than enough of a threat," snarled the man with the gun to his head. "What are you doing so far from your people? Scouting?"

"I only brought a delivery I wanted to see home. That is all."

"A delivery? What in Ishvala's name is that supposed to mean?" wondered a second voice, a woman. The two of them, as well as a third voice, discussed something in their language, then after a few moments, the one threatening to kill him demanded, "what is this delivery?"

"MAMAAAAAA! ALLLLLL!"

All four of them jumped at poor Ed's wail. Something must have happened to his family—to most of the people in this city. Had they evacuated? Probably once Kimblee was come and gone, fearing what he would do, they had all picked up and left.

Roy, more than a little nervous, raised his voice and called, "Ed, come out here!"

This time, only the three Ishvalans reacted. They all started, not expecting him to call for something, and the muzzle at this head pressed harder, likely to leave a bruise (if not a hole). "What was that?" the first snarled. "Who did you call?"

" _Did he say 'Ed'_?" wondered the woman. The third voice spoke in Ishvalan again—he probably didn't speak much Amestrian.

A few moments later, Ed came out of the door, looking a little lonely and dejected. "They're not here," he informed Roy quietly, stepping up to plant his face in Roy's thigh. Roy would have reached down ruffle his hair and reassure him if not for the weapon at his head.

"Ed," he said instead gently, hoping to bring his attention to his people.

Ed lifted his head, and in that same instant, he noticed the people behind Roy. They weren't his family, but he was clearly excited to see them all the same, the way his eyes lit up. "Mikahal!"

"Ed?!" wondered the man, Mikahal. He grunted when Ed rushed to put his arms around him, happily babbling about their trip through the desert.

"Ed, what on earth are you doing here? How did you get here?" wondered the woman quietly, as if Ed being here was an absolute impossibility.

"The Amestrians took me," Ed chirped, taking a step back, "but Roy brought me home!"

"Ed," Roy said firmly now that Ed was done babbling. He didn't want Ed to see what was about to happen, but he didn't want Ed caught totally by surprise.

Ed looked up to him, a nervous hush quickly falling over him. He took a step away from Mikahal, backing into the corner of Roy's vision, and wondered, "...what's going on?"

"Ed," Roy said, eyes to the side to look at him. He looked frightened. He must have realized what was about to happen to Roy, and was afraid—what, afraid for him? Afraid for Roy to leave him? He couldn't tell. No matter. "Ed, I need you to do me a favor. Go to your people, Ed. They'll know where your mother is. Go to them, Ed."

"N… no," Ed mumbled. He stepped a little closer to Roy, eyebrows knitting together. "No."

"Ed, they'll help you find your mother."

"... _You're_  helping me find my mother."

Roy growled inwardly, but outwardly it didn't show. "I know that, but they'll do better. Ed, I need you to go to them, cover your ears, and don't look."

Again, Ed got closer, this time grabbing for Roy's suncoat and giving it a hard tug. In that instant, Roy felt his heart break for the kid. They had been together for days straight now, seeing no one else but one another, and Ed had gotten himself attached. And now—now, Roy had to die, and Ed probably understood that.

Roy more than deserved it, though. And Ed  _could not_  see that.

"Zedekiah," he snapped. The name felt heavy on his tongue, like he shouldn't be using it. The gun at his head shifted with surprise—the Ishvalans probably weren't expecting an Amestrian to know the kid's sacred Ishvalan name. "Go to your people. Close your eyes. Cover your ears. These people will see you home."

"Bu—" Ed said. His fingers unlaced from Roy's suncoat, though, and he took several steps away. Roy turned his head a little to see that Ed had backed to one of his people and obediently turned his face away, trembling against the young woman. Knowing what was about to happen.

"You don't protest," the Ishvalan, Mikahal, said behind him. The gun was taken from his head for a moment. "And you don't fight."

"No. I know what I've done. I know what I deserve."

Mikahal paused where he was, calculating, for several moments. Roy stood there, waiting for his death. It was what he deserved.

Then, the gun was taken away completely and holstered. The man started muttering to himself in Ishvalan. Then he grabbed at Roy's arms and forced them behind Roy's back. He fastened them behind his back, with what felt like rope, and snapped, "fine, we'll see what the elders want done with you." Turning to his small troop, he commanded, "let's go," and lead them north.

There was a huge sigh of relief, and within seconds, a tiny hand reached up to grab Roy's fingertips, even though they were bound. Ed chattered again happily, letting off nerves, and Roy listened without a word to everything he had to say about Askia and his family and friends. Tears were glistening in his ruby eyes, but Roy decided not to make a comment. When Ed took his suncoat and pressed it against his face, he didn't protest.

Instead, he looked to Mikahal, strides in front of him. The other man walked directly at his rear, the woman walking a little ahead. Keeping him in place, no doubt. Well, Roy had no intentions to run.

Mikahal apparently felt his stare on his back. He looked backwards, then back forwards once they met eyes. "Just because you Amestrians will kill on sight for no reason, doesn't mean we all will. We are a peaceful people; we attack when we are attacked. Besides, maybe we can use you."

The statement made Roy laugh to himself. Well played. He was about to become an Ishvalan prisoner of war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so school ended... a while ago. And then the chapter stopped working for me. But! Some of chapter 10 is already finished so it shouldn't take too?????? long. However, school does start again in two weeks, so we'll see what happens after that.   
> Please drop a comment!! I always appreciate the support!


	10. Chapter 10

Mikahal and his companions lead Roy far out of town, back into the desert. They didn’t speak a word to him, and Roy didn’t blame them. He followed along silently, Ed still clinging to his fingers. Ed was speaking alternately to him in Amestrian, and to any of the three in Ishvalan. At some point, Mikahal unclipped something from his belt and passed it over to Ed. Ed unscrewed the top of the canteen and threw his head back, gulping down whole mouthfuls of water at once. 

Roy tried not to eye the canteen, remembering the three empty ones on his bag. He, too, was getting pretty thirsty, but he dared not say a thing. They wouldn’t listen to him, anyway. 

Ed peered down at the canteen, then looked up to Roy who was looking pointedly away. Ed tugged on Roy’s hand and, when Roy looked his way, held it up. “Here, Roy.”

Before Roy could say anything to the positive or negative, Mikahal turned his head and lowered a hefty glare on the kid. “Ed, no,” he snapped sharply.

Ed flinched and leaned into Roy, looking up to him. 

Roy tossed a gentle smile down to him. “Thanks, kid, but I can’t drink right now, anyway. Give it back.” He wiggled the fingers in Ed’s grip, tied behind his back, for emphasis. 

The look that Ed wore was apologetic, but not to Mikahal, when he gave the canteen back. Mikahal clipped it back into place and continued on. 

“...Mikahal?” wondered Ed. “Where are we going? Do you know where Al and my mama are?” He spoke in Amestrian this time, and Roy wondered if it was because he was so used to speaking Amestrian after all that time with Roy, or if it was because he wanted Roy to hear. 

Mikahal glanced down to Ed, eyeing Roy with a sneer. He turned back to face forward.

Roy thought for a second that Mikahal was going to ignore Ed, just because Roy was there. Ed had  _ every _ right to know where they were headed. What did he think Roy was going to do with the information? Run off, back to the Amestrians? He was tied up at their mercy and at least half a day from any Amestrian.

Then, Mikahal spoke up again, sounding worn out, like he had the whole world on his shoulders. “After the Crimson Alchemist got you,” he explained quietly, “the elders feared they would be coming for the rest of us next. Everyone picked up and headed to Aishoa.”

Aishoa. Roy knew that name, but he didn’t know from where. Something at the back of his mind recognized it, though. 

“Your mother wanted to stay,” Mikahal went on. His voice was soft now, gentle with affection. However he knew Ed’s mother, the two of them were very close. “In case you somehow came back. She was afraid you’d come home, but wouldn’t be able to find your way back to her.”

“Lucky you ran into us when you did, then,” Roy commented. He hadn’t meant to say anything, but it was true. Roy would have had no clue where to start looking for Ed’s family and people next, had Mikahal not come along.

Mikahal shot him a withering glare. “Suppose so.” He sighed and ignored Roy, looking ahead again. “Once the Amestrians got you, we thought for sure you were dead. She was devastated. We had to practically drag her to Aishoa—remind her that Al still needed her.”

Ed averted his eyes to the ground, a frown set on his little face. Roy gave his fingertips a squeeze. When they were there, and she saw him again, she would feel so much better, and he would have no reason to feel bad. It was hardly Ed’s fault that Kimblee decided to be an asshole. 

They walked for a little while longer before they made it to the top of a dune. There was a small town nestled amongst the troughs of the surrounding dunes. Rising up the far side of the town was a number of tents—likely, the inhabitants of Askia had found shelter there. There wasn’t much movement in the town, as far as Roy could see, but the tented areas seemed to be thriving with life. That was good to see. After all of that time being in war zones, where the only people alive were trying to kill you, this was a nice change of pace. 

Not, of course, that they may not try to kill Roy. But the air felt gentler here. Nervous, but gentler. 

Ed’s hand on his fingers squeezed hard. He was shaking again, with excitement and trepidation. His family was just through Aishoa and out the other side. Only a little bit farther, and Ed would be home. 

The thought made Roy smile a little, looking down to the boy whose eyes wouldn’t leave those tents. Though they had been captured— _ he _ had been captured—he had still nearly done what he came out to do, and delivered the boy to his mother’s arms. Only a little further. He thought he could be pleased with that. 

“This way,” Mikahal grunted, leading them down the dune and around the town. Ed skipped a step to stay caught up, hopping beside Roy for a few paces before slowing. 

The walk through the the town was short, but Roy felt more sneers aimed at him than he ever had before. They had no clue why he was there, but the only Amestrians that may have ever arrived in their town were probably always bad news. The only good Amestrians in this terrible war were the doctors Rockbell, and they were nowhere near here.

He also heard several jeers thrown his way, but he only knew a few words of Ishvalan. Heathcliff had been…  _ kind _ enough to teach him the word for ‘bastard’ (as well as a few other curses), and he heard that more than a few times. He lowered his eyes to the sand and followed Ed’s movements. 

Finally, the stone buildings stopped and cloth tents started. Ed’s steps were unsure, but he followed Mikahal nonetheless, tugging Roy along anxiously. 

The Ishvalans parted the crowd for them as they came through, backing away from the captured Amestrian. They started talking amongst themselves, but the Askians seemed less brave than their Aishoan counterparts. Probably because the Aishoans had sturdy buildings that they could duck into should things go wrong; flimsy cloth tents would protect no one should Roy “go insane”, as they surely feared. 

Still, more than a few glares levelled on Roy’s back, and a few curses caught on his ears. Ed pushed nervously against his legs as he overheard them, not expecting the nasty words being tossed in his general direction. They were approaching a big tent near the center. Mikahal stopped beside the man who stood at the entrance and said something to him under his breath. Roy didn’t have to look up, or understand their words, to know that they were talking about him.

The man nodded and ducked to the side, holding open the tent flaps. The woman behind Roy shoved him toward the tent, making Roy nearly trip over his feet, not expecting the force. Ed yelped, since his hand was clamped with Roy’s. The man holding the flap open sneered at Roy but, when Ed looked up at him and smiled, the sneer softened to a gentle smile. 

Yeah. Ed had that effect. 

The tent inside, though large, was minimally decorated. All that stood was a statue of the god the Ishvalans praised. Roy had seen the statue in miniature from Heathcliff once or twice, but there was something truly awe-ful, seeing it in the presence of its people. Besides the statue, there was only a great obsidian basin, a few chairs, and kneeling rugs. 

At the back of the tent, crouched on rugs, there knelt two elderly Ishvalans, each with thin white hair and wrinkled dark faces. Their eyes, though not focused on him, shone red with wisdom and a love for their people that knew no bounds. 

These were the elders, the ones who governed the town and its religious practices. The ones who would decide his fate. 

He thought, in that moment, that he should be very afraid of these people who held his life in their hands. But, much to his surprise… he wasn’t at all. He held a great deal of respect for them, because though they were crouched, they carried themselves in a way that was both humbling and enlightening, and because they had earned the respect of many people, for good reason. 

“Elders,” said Mikahal, bowing his head a little. “I return from Askia.”

The woman turned wise old eyes up to him and smiled an aching smile. “Mikahal,” she said, standing. She went to him and grabbed his face, lowering it so they could touch foreheads. “You return quickly.”

“And you brought some things,” said the man, rising beside his companion. He stood on shaking legs. Roy felt a sudden need to get to his side and support him somehow, but also knew that such a thing was largely unnecessary. “You returned home a boy we thought dead.”

Ed quickly caught on that they were talking about him, and wiggled his hand free. He stepped forward and lowered his head respectfully. The man laughed and patted his head, and the woman bowed down to press her forehead against his. 

“You are injured. Did the Amestrians mistreat you?”

“Some of them did,” Ed admitted, folding his hand over the bound wound on his arm. “But a couple were kinda nice. They fed me when the rest wouldn’t.”

The woman’s eyes softened with gentle affection. “We are glad to see you returned home, child. Polisae, fetch Tyesha. She’ll want to see who we’ve found.”

A man to Roy’s left nodded and turned out of the tent. 

Then, the elders’ eyes were on Roy. 

“You,” said the woman. For Ed, her voice had flowed easy like water, but for Roy, it was sharp and hard like a weapon. “Amestrian.”

“Y-yes, ma’am,” he said, not sure what to say. Was it acceptable of him to speak? 

“My scouts say you were with the child. Is this true?”

“...Yes, ma’am. It’s true.”

“What could you want with him?” the man demanded, eyes cold and narrow. “He knows nothing. He cannot fight. You would train him to be like you?”

“I—“ 

“Roy brought me home,” Ed said, so Roy didn’t have to. “He’s my friend.”

“He’s Amestrian. Amestrians aren’t friends, Ed,” said Mikahal sharply. “They’ve murdered entire cities in a day.”

“I know,” Ed continued. He knotted his hands together in front of him. “But this one helped me. He fed me and helped me sleep and then he got me to Askia. He’s my friend.”

Mikahal said nothing, scoffing softly. The elders both eyed him, then turned their scrutinizing eyes on Roy again. 

“Who… are you?” wondered the woman. Her eyes were cold and her hands shook, but she wore the look of a truth-seer—like she would know if he lied.

So… he didn’t. 

“I am Roy Mustang, Amestrian soldier.” 

Most everyone in the tent gasped loudly and harshly. If they did not know his face, surely they knew his name. They knew who he was, and surely many of them knew all the destruction he could bring with a snap of his fingers. 

“I’m in the 414th, and I answer to Basque Grand. I will admit I have done some… bad things, things I’m ashamed of, but this…” He cast his eyes down to Ed, who listened, watching with huge crimson eyes. “This is not one of them.”

The elders continued eyeing him for minutes afterward. A few Ishvalans left the tent nearly in a panic, afraid when he would strike next.

Then, the man spoke, his voice clear and curious. “Tell me, Mr Mustang of the 414th, who answers to Basque Grand. Tell me why you brought this child here. Tell me your purpose.”

Roy’s eyes darted up to meet the man’s, and this time, there was no hostility in his eyes. He waited for an answer patiently. 

Ed had asked the question a few times, that first day. Roy’s answer had been the same: he needed to go home. But that was a child’s answer. What did he say to the elders, the leaders of an entire city?

“...No child belongs in a war camp,” he said, softly. “No matter their skin color. He needed to go home.”

The two elders looked to him, something akin to surprise flickering across their faces. They split a look, then the woman smiled a little and shook her head. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Mustang of the 414th. We are the elders of the city of Askia. I am Jihora, and this is my husband, Sonra.”

Roy answered the way any respectable human being should. “The pleasure is all mine.”

* * *

 

Within minutes, his hands were untied. Mikahal protested, but apparently was quickly sated by Ed reaching up and seizing one of Roy’s dangerous hands. 

He was even given some water, which he was eternally grateful for. He thanked the man who gave it in the way that Ed showed him and, though the man seemed disturbed that an Amestrian was doing so, he gestured back the close and stepped out of the tent. 

Whichever Ishvalans remained in the tent were all in protest of Roy’s fair treatment. Ed stayed close to Roy because he didn’t like all the yelling, so Roy held him to his thigh and rested the hand not held fast in Ed’s hand on his hair. 

It wasn’t until Elder Sonra declared evenly that his fate would be left to Tyesha that the Ishvalans fell silent, only shooting him frequent glares but milling about, doing their duties. Elder Jihora had mentioned the name, Tyesha, before, but Roy had no clue who that was. He got the impression that whomever it was, they were close to Ed, because Ed practically shook with excitement at the name. 

He was left unspoken to after that. He was allowed to crouch down on a rug so he wasn’t left standing, but otherwise, even the elders acted as if they had better things to do than bother with an Amestrian major. 

Which, Roy supposed, was fair. They had no duty to entertain him, and he was fine with that. 

Several moments passed, with Ed sitting halfway on his knees, before there was a commotion outside that garnered the attention of everyone in the tent. Roy twisted his head around, but Ed almost immediately jumped to his feet, little arms shaking with excitement.

Then, outside, there was the thick accent of an Ishvalan woman yelling “ _ let me through _ !” And, as if in a blaze of glory, the tent flaps flipped open and indeed, there stood a woman looking more frantic and disbelieving than Roy had ever seen one woman look in all his life.

He didn’t have the second to guess who this would be and what she would want, because Ed rushed right up to her yelling “ _ MAMA! _ ” and launched himself right into her arms. 

“ _ Ed! _ ” The woman sobbed, catching him and spinning him around. She collected him to her body and pressed kiss after relieved kiss against his head, sobbing into his messy white hair and trying to pull him closer and closer. 

This was the woman they had been traveling to see. The woman that Roy had sworn he would see Ed to. He had done what he had come to do—and the rest was up to fate.

The woman was speaking in fast but choppy Ishvalan, mumbling into Ed’s hair too quiet for anyone to really understand. She was shaking vigorously and attempting to suck Ed right into her body, with how close she held him. She must have been terrified and grieving—and now, to have her baby suddenly returned to her? That would be quite the shock of emotion. 

“Mama…” Ed mumbled, nuzzling his cheek against her and seeming all too pleased to be covered with kisses. Roy wondered if he forgot about the crowd, or if he normally wouldn’t care much. He seemed to be very close with her, as many Ishvalans were close to their remaining families. It was part of their culture; parents took care of their children and their parents oftentimes, as elders especially were often held in high esteem. But Ed hadn’t really seemed much like the “okay with receiving affections in public” sort of kid in their travels. Sure, he hadn’t known the kid in that sort of situation, but… Roy figured he had only been okay with holding his hand because he was afraid. 

Then again, he  _ had _ held his hand all the way from Askia to Aishoa, despite being in the presence of his own people. Maybe Roy was just pegging him wrong. He had never been very good at reading kids, anyway.

Finally, the woman who Roy assumed was Tyesha pulled her face from Ed’s messy hair and touched his face. Her hand hovered over the healing bruise around his eye and the cut in his hairline, and then down to the recent scratch wrapped on his arm. She said something in Ishvalan, something gentle and loving and absolutely heartbroken, and Ed responded in kind. Roy could only make out the occasional word but, judging by the expressions Tyesha was making, and the expressions the rest of the Ishvalans were making, Ed was telling her about his time at base camp and the way that he had been mistreated.

Then, Ed took his hand from her shawl, swiveled around, and pointed right at Roy. 

The woman turned round crimson eyes to him, first in curiosity, then they narrowed in that special maternal anger that absolutely  _ screamed _ “how dare you touch my baby?”. She fit her arm beneath Ed’s rump and lifted him, then stood herself and marched to Roy like a demon borne from hell.

“ _ How dare you,” _ she spat. Her accent was thick but discernible; she had clearly been speaking Amestrian for at least a little while. “How  _ dare you _ touch my son. He’s a  _ baby _ , only a  _ baby _ , and you—have the  _ nerve _ , the—“ Her face was quickly getting a shade of dark red beneath her skin as an all-encompassing fury surrounded her. 

“ _ Mama _ !” Ed said, but Tyesha ignored him, dead set on letting her anger boil over. 

“The  _ gall _ to take him from me, and then—the lot of you tying him up and—treating him like an  _ animal! _ ” She shrieked the last word, nothing but fury and vengeance on her mind. Roy couldn’t tell if she meant to speak to him directly, or was speaking to Amestrians as a whole, but the way she spoke suggested the latter. She was a mom on a mission and, though his Aunt Chris had never been much of a motherly type, he had had an experience or two similar from her. 

“I know,” was all Roy could think of to say. He couldn’t apologize yet, because it probably wouldn’t sate her, and he couldn’t explain himself because she wasn’t done. Best to let her energy fly free.

“You took him and you  _ hurt him _ —LOOK!! Look at this!! A  _ black eye _ !”

“I know.” He had been none too pleased to see the wound, same as her. 

“On a  _ five-year-old _ !”

“Mamaa, I’m nearly six,” Ed protested, but again Tyesha ignored him. 

“How  _ dare you _ !!” Tyesha marched forward and planted her finger right against his solar plexus, eyes burning like a fire. “How  _ DARE YOU _ !!”

“I know,” Roy said again, because there was nothing more he  _ could _ say. 

“Is that  _ all you have to say?!? _ ” 

Roy swallowed and turned his eyes to the side, looking to the elders and everyone who watched him. These were the same people he was killing. Every one of them. It was getting—hard, to look at them. Knowing what he had done. “I don’t know what Kimblee was thinking, that day,” he finally said, low and slow. “I don’t know why he took your son, and I can’t speak for him or the rest of the military, but I am sorry he did that. I’m sorry he hurt you that way.”

“Oh, you’re  _ sorry _ ?”

“I am.” Roy flinched hard when her glare darkened. “That doesn’t fix it, but I did what I could to—“

“You’re  _ sorry _ !” Tyesha yelled, more of a confirmation than a question. “I’m  _ sure you are _ ! You dirty Amestrians—taking what isn’t yours and thinking that it’s fine, destroying and perverting Ishvala’s creations, trying to play god yourself— _ why _ are you still here?” She turned to face the tent wall, turning her back to Roy, and clung to her baby. 

“Tyesha,” Elder Sonra said over her anger, grabbing her attention. When she glanced his way, he inclined his head a little and said, “we wondered if you would… decide his fate. His people’s actions directly caused you harm, and now he can fix it.”

Roy wondered about that. Had he not harmed the others? Had he not killed the others? Roy supposed that his flames likely hadn’t touched many Askian’s skin, but surely they had killed their friends? Roy had killed too many Ishvalans for his greatest crime to be ‘his people were the same people who stole an Ishvalan child’.

Maybe they were thinking of something else. Maybe it was something to do with their religion. Or maybe, they were just looking for an excuse.

Tyesha’s crimson eyes turned from her elder to her child, then took on a darkly satisfied look as they turned to Roy, and Roy knew that whatever she decided would be his downfall, it wouldn’t be pretty. 

And whatever it was, Roy wouldn’t stop it. He wouldn’t protest. 

Tyesha opened her mouth, but just as she was about to speak, Elder Jihora spoke up. “But, before you do,” she said, her voice firm but gentle. “Do you know who this man is?”

“Yes,” Tyesha said sharply. 

“Do you know what he has done?”

Her voice darkened into a snarl when she said, “yes.”

“Do you know what he did for your son? Did Ed get to tell you everything?”

That gave Tyesha pause. She again opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t think of what to say, and just turned down to the child in her grip. Ed’s huge eyes turned up to her, watery and nervous. “No… all he said was that the Amestrians—” She lifted her hand to brush her fingertips against Ed’s slightly swollen eye. “—mistreated him.”

“Elder Jihora,” said an Ishvalan woman whose name Roy didn’t know. “Are you  _ advocating _ for the Amestrian? Do you  _ want _ him to kill us all?”

Elder Jihora turned sharp eyes on the woman who spoke, the woman instantly cowed into submission. Despite the sharp look, her voice was gentle as she said, “not advocating. I just think that Tyesha should have all pertinent information.”

“That’s… very ominous, Elder,” Tyesha said lowly, like she was now aware that saying “they mistreated me” was not all that had happened to Ed.

“I should hope so,” Elder Jihora agreed, nodding. “Our people are not a cruel, violent people. And deciding a man’s fate should never be easy. Even—” Jihora’s red eyes turned to Roy, looking him right in the eyes, and Roy immediately understood that no, she was certainly  _ not _ advocating for him. “When that man’s people have decided all of ours.”

Tyesha looked back down to her child, who was clinging to her shawl still. She sighed heavily and glared all around, then sunk to her knees in the sand and rested Ed on her thighs. 

“...Okay, Ed. Tell me everything.”

And Ed did. 

Roy assumed, anyway. He was speaking in Ishvalan again, so Roy caught very few words and could certainly not string them together into an explanation. But he waved his hand emphatically in Roy’s general direction two or three times. When Tyesha glanced up at Roy, her expression wasn’t intensely horrified, so he assumed that was a good thing. 

Finally, after some time, Ed stopped speaking and just stared up at her, waiting. Tyesha appeared to be processing all of the information that was given to her, not looking up from his little face. Roy said nothing to offer a word of explanation himself; he figured it would only hurt his chances if he did. 

Then, Tyesha’s crimson eyes, so like her son’s, turned up to look at him and stared, watching, waiting. So Roy gave her his best explanation, the same he gave to the elders. 

“He needed to be home. It doesn’t matter what their race, or where they are from, kids should never be in war camps. He was being mistreated, and I couldn’t stand that, so I had to get him home.”

Tyesha turned her eyes to the ground for a moment, then looked to the elders, who waited for her verdict. She warred with herself, then set Ed on the ground and walked back up to Roy, scrutinizing him. 

“He’ll live.”

He would…  _ live _ …?

Before Roy had even the second to be relieved, Tyesha poked his chest hard and said “ _ for now _ . We may be able to use him for something. But take one step out of line…” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Roy said, throat tight and knotted. He didn’t know if he should be worried or relieved, didn’t know what they had planned, or if they had anything planned at all. But for now, he was allowed to live, and he figured he should at least be happy—nay, be  _ grateful _ —for that.

Ed, apparently a little more enthusiastic about Roy being allowed to live than Roy himself was, broke into a huge grin and whooped into the dry air.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School starts in a few days, so I don't know when chapter 11 will be out. But! This should sate you for at least a little bit. Look at that, everyone's healthy~  
> Thank Ranowa for Tyesha's name. It means "healthy and blooming". :D  
> Please drop a comment and tell me what you thought! I always appreciate the support!


	11. Chapter 11

Roy was instantly escorted out of the tent, although it was only at the consideration of one little Ishvalan. Tyesha followed them nervously, but Ed didn’t seem to mind. She never strayed too close to Roy, but also never let Ed even close to out of her sight. None of the other Ishvalans tried to stop Ed from dragging Roy out or Tyesha from following, even though it would have been in their best interests to keep the closest of eyes on him.

If that was trust, it was highly undeserved; carelessness, at the poorest of times; or perhaps they thought Tyesha and Ed would be enough to stop him, which would be insane if he wasn’t and so… _highly_ lucky that he was.

News must have gone out that Ed was returned—and with a visitor—because once he stepped into what must have been the common area, he was swamped with smiling faces and fast Ishvalan words. Roy caught glimpses of words—words like ‘happy’ and ‘back’ and ‘worried’—but for the most part could tell what was actually going on just by the smiling faces of Ed and his countrymen. Roy stepped back so they wouldn’t feel threatened, and Ed could enjoy his people in peace.

Then, after a moment, Ed whipped his hand out toward Roy and said in Amestrian, “and this is my friend Roy!! He helped me!!”

The commons fell into a nervous hush. It was clear that they had known Roy was there but had been avoiding him for the sake of peace. But now, Ed had drawn attention to him in a way that they hadn’t been too pleased with. Ed was clearly delighted with him… but the rest of them wanted to bury him in the sand.

“That’s… nice, Ed,” said one of the men who wore his hair long. They were at least being polite and not expressing their desire to see him dead upon introduction, and Ed seemed far too happy to be home to actually pay attention to the tension in the air.

“Say hello,” Ed commanded, this time of Roy. He puffed out one cheek, looking like he absolutely meant his command and would not take no for an answer.

Roy sighed, then lifted his fist to his chin and bowed his head the way Ed had showed him a few days ago. “Hello,” he said politely. A few of the men sneered, one woman scoffed in a way that told Roy he had done something wrong in his greet. “I am Roy, I’m Ed’s friend.”

“I’m sure you are,” spat another woman, hooking her arm around a boy probably twice as tall as Ed and nervously steering him away.

Ed made a face and looked up to Roy, then turned to the other Ishvalans as if waiting for them to respond in kind.

One of the men, a man who carried suspiciously similar features to Tyesha, looked Roy up and down. When Ed turned bright eyes up to him, one healing, he gave in and breathed out a sigh, gesturing back to Roy. Roy saw his mistake from before was probably a simple one; he hadn’t brought his head low enough; everything else looked to be in order.

“Greetings, Amestrian Roy,” said the man, “I am Jilahah, brother of Ed’s mother. You helped Ed. We’re pleased that he’s home.”

“I did,” Roy agreed, surprised Jilahah was willing to strike up conversation with him. “There were a couple rough patches, but all in all it was an easy trip.”

“Ah,” said Jilahah, his face morphing with discomfort. Ahh, no—he hadn’t wanted to strike up conversation at all. But with Ed smiling at him the way that he was, it was quickly becoming clear that he just didn’t want to upset Ed by being impolite.

That was far better treatment than he should be getting, but Roy wouldn’t spit at good fortune. Instead, he tugged at Ed’s hand so that the man wouldn’t feel so uncomfortable, and said, “speaking of brothers, you said something about having one?”

“Al!” Ed chirped, nodding hugely. He bowed his head and touched his fist to his chin, then moved it in Jilahah’s direction, then said, “thank you, Boba Jilah! We’re going to go see Al now!”

Roy copied the movement, so Jilahah copied them and turned away, tension falling from his shoulders almost instantly. Then, in a matter of moments, Ed was tugging on his hand hard to get him moving. Roy didn’t dare mention that they were in a new place and Ed should _probably_ figure out just where Al was, but Ed seemed much too determined to care.

A noise came from behind them, and Tyesha went from following them to rounding in front of them. She shot a glare at Roy, then crouched before her son and said softly, “Ed, my son, what are you thinking?”

“I told Roy all _about Al_ , Mama,” Ed said simply, shrugging little shoulders. “He wants to meet him!! It’s okay.”

“Ed, Roy’s an _Amestrian_ ,” Tyesha reminded nervously. “A dangerous man.”

“And I’m Ishvalan!” Ed chirped, as if it was simple as that. “And so are you, and Elder Sonra, and Elder Jihora, and Al, and everybody else here! It’s okay, Mama. He’s good.”

Tyesha lifted a sneer toward Roy’s face, looking at him like she knew far more than she was letting on and certainly more than Ed did.

Roy gulped and turned away from her for a second, then he looked her right in the eyes and said, “you already told me that if I took even one step out of line, I would suffer a fate worse than death.” Well, she hadn’t said all that, but he was good at reading between the lines. “I don’t plan to step out even a single toe.”

Tyesha’s throat tightened, quickly getting nervous, then she glanced down to her son. After a moment of contemplation, she said, “fine. But you’ll want to come this way.”

Ed grinned up at her, then took her hand and let himself be dragged along while he dragged along Roy. Roy shot a grateful look at the back of Tyesha’s head that she didn’t feel and allowed himself to follow the small family.

The short walk went along like that. They met with a few more Askians, Roy greeted them and, apparently not wanting to disappoint Ed, they shot him icy greetings back. Ed didn’t notice the tension, just seemed pleased as punch that no one was spitting curses.

Finally, they reached a large tent where a few people seemed to have their stuff gathered. This seemed to be some sort of a communal tent. Tyesha nodded at the front flaps, so Ed pushed himself through quietly.

It was dark inside, lit only by a few candles. When Roy peeked a glance, he noticed a few children scattered about in the sand, sleeping their troubles away. Something about this all felt very gentle—Roy could only assume this was some sort of daycare.

And when he glanced up, he spied a woman looking at him with eyes wide with fear. Her hands were cupped around the shoulders of two more children who, though they did not recognize him, did realize that his skin was lighter and his hair was darker—he was surely different from them, and for many Ishvalans, different was bad.

She didn’t even appear to notice the two Ishvalans beside him, eyes only for him and his waist, where a gun was likely to be hidden away. He lifted his hands a little to show he had no weapons, but didn’t know how else he was meant to reassure her. Even if he said that he wasn’t there to hurt them, she had children to protect, and why would she believe him?

“Myma Lana!” Ed chirped before she or he could say a word. The woman’s eyes, as well as his, were torn to the little boy who shone up at her the brightest of smiles. “I’m back!”

“Ed!” Tyesha hissed, her voice low for the children napping around her. One near the back stirred, but no one else even seemed to notice.

“Myma Lana, you won’t even _believe_ where I’ve been,” Ed said, hopping over to her. “I went to Amestris!”

Roy snorted and relaxed his shoulders, crossing his arms over his chest. Beside him, Tyesha sighed and rolled her eyes. “Ed, you’ve been in Amestris,” he said softly.

“Whatever.” Ed peered all over the place and finally looked back up to Myma Lana, big eyes bright. “Myma, have you seen Al anywhere?”

Lana appeared to be in some sort of confused standstill. Her eyes darted between the danger of Roy’s presence, the elation of Ed’s, and the utterly calm disbelief of Tyesha. Finally, she looked up at Tyesha and asked in a very hushed voice three Ishvalan words that Roy could understand. _“Anet te amestirkhan?”_ Loosely: _you see the Amestrian?_

 _“Na,_ ” Tyesha agreed, her voice low. She said a few more words that Roy didn’t catch, then turned to Roy and, with a slightly put off tone, she said, “Amestrian Roy, this is Lana. She takes care of the children around here when her mother Charisa cannot and the rest of us are busy in the town, so the kids call her Myma. Lana, this is Ed’s friend. _Na_ , he’s Amestrian.”

 _“Amestirkhan…”_ the young woman said under her breath. She seemed no more at ease than earlier, but Roy couldn’t really blame her.

So, a little nervously, he signed at her the greeting Ed had taught him and spoke a few of the Ishvalan words he knew: “ _Salo, anat—atana kalay’e te Ishvala._ ”

Tyesha, Ed, and Lana all looked to him. Ed’s jaw was practically touching the floor, while Lana seemed a little more put at ease and Tyesha was awestruck.

“I didn’t know you could speak Ishvalan!” Almost _instantly_ , Ed started babbling in Ishvalan as if he had had a thousands things he could only say in his native tongue.

“Ah, Ed, only a—I only know a few words. One of my good friends was Ishvalan,” Roy hushed him, going a little red himself. He glanced to the two ladies, who seemed to be considering him, then one another.

Lana turned back to him and closed the greeting, saying, “ _Salo, anaatana te kala’e Ishvala”_ in return. Loosely translated, it said “hello, I hope Ishvala brings peace”, apparently a standard greeting among the villages. She seemed far more at ease now—though still a little nervous, she didn’t seem to think her death was imminent. She spoke to Tyesha, then turned around to fetch one of the children napping.

Tyesha glanced back toward Roy, watching the children around her. “Not many Amestrians speak Ishvalan,” she commented softly.

“I don’t really either. I think I just exhausted most of my vocabulary. My friend Heathcliff taught me some words and traditions, and then Ed taught me a few more on the way here.”

“Hmm,” Tyesha said. “I don’t know a Heathcliff. Must be from a different village. Still, there aren’t many Amestrians who would try to learn. Especially not from an Ishvalan—what, a soldier? Or from a five-year-old.”

“—Nearly six!”

Roy barked a laugh and immediately bit it back, hoping he didn’t just wake up any of the kids. Tyesha rolled her eyes again and glanced down to her son, who was practically bouncing down at her feet. Her eyes were soft with affection, the emotion a swift change from the curiosity and dislike when they had been on Roy.

“He’s been—ah, saying so the whole walk.”

“He’s been saying so for two months now,” Tyesha agreed gently. “Seems to think that with all the stunts he’s been pulling, he’s going to _have_ a sixth birthday.”

Ed’s jaw again smacked the sand beneath him, looking up between Roy and his mother. Then he _harrumphed_ mightily and crossed his little arms, calling for Myma Lana.

Lana came to him cradling a smaller boy who blinked sleep from his eyes. His hair was fairly neat, with gentle bangs like a hawk’s wing falling over his right eye. He was dressed in a shawl the color of the sand around him and white shorts. Roy wouldn’t have even realized who this was had Ed’s eyes not lit up upon seeing the child blinking awake.

“Al!”

The boy blinked scarletty eyes wide awake upon hearing his name. He peeked all around, smiled a gap toothed smile at his mother, passed confused eyes over Roy, before he finally glanced down to the source of the noise that had awoken him. He took a few extra moments to comprehend just what he was seeing, before he rubbed at one eye like he couldn’t believe it and sat up further in Lana’s arms.

“B-b-brother…?”

“It’s me, Al!” Ed chirped.

Immediately was Al wiggling in Lana’s arms, begging to be put down. Lana set him on his feet and, as soon as his toes were touching the ground, Al launched into Ed’s arms and threw his arms around his neck. “Ed…!”

Ed laughed a little and patted Al’s back, especially when Al’s shoulders started jerking with restrained tears. “Al, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

“We d-didn’t think you were coming back…! I was so scared, brother, I was so _scared_!” Al buried his face into Ed’s sandy shawl and wept violently, fingertips digging into his skin so hard indents were bound to be left afterward.

Roy smiled a little, behind them. From the way Ed had launched into his mother’s arms, to the way Al was clinging to Ed, this was all making this whole trip worth it. For all the tearing apart of families, for all the killing that Roy had been doing in these past several months, he had reunited one desperately frightened family. He had filled one hole.

This was why he had joined the military. To protect the children who couldn’t protect themselves. To save people who needed help, who no one had been able to.

Tyesha shared a glance with him and cocked a brow at his smile. When he noticed her looking, he fought it back down—it was probably a _little_ creepy to see a young Amestrian smiling down at her crying children. When he glanced back at her, she averted her eyes.

After a small amount of time, Al seemed to finish crying and stepped back from his brother. He smiled a huge gap-toothed smile at Ed, then quietly asked, “h-how did you get here though? The Amestrian stole you!”

“Yeah, he did. And he was _mean_. He brought me to this big awful camp and tied me all up, and him and some of his pals kicked me and hit me. But I made a friend, too, and then he had some nice friends. He helped me sleep and got me food and water, and then, when I thought the cockroach man was going to kill me, my friend came and punched everyone in the face!!”

Roy grinned to himself. _Cockroach man_ . Hughes had regularly referred to Kimblee as insect-like in nature, but _god_ if Roy didn’t hope that cockroach man stuck. The man was vile like them, and those horrible antennae on his head? Not unlike an insect’s.

“And then, when I thought i was gonna die of heat, my new friend came and got me water and unlocked me, and then he and me walked _all_ the way across the desert to get home.”

Al sniffled quietly and wiped at his cheeks, “i’m glad you’re home, brother.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

Al glanced up past Ed, first to his mother and then to Roy. He finally seemed to notice that Roy’s hair was black and his skin was pale. He gulped, but he was probably the first Ishvalan all day that did not immediately recoil upon realizing he was not Ishvalan.

“...Friend…?” Al asked of Ed, glancing at Roy.

“Yeah, his name is Roy. He helped me get home! It was just him and me for _three whole days_.”

Al stepped away from Ed, never looking away from Roy. He slowly approached the Amestrian, reaching out a hand to touch his white suncoat. Then, even though Roy thought for sure his ducts had dried by now, tears filled the boy’s crimson eyes and he launched forward and latched onto Roy’s legs.

Roy turned slightly panicking eyes to look at Tyesha. Tyesha, eyes wide, looked terrified. Her arms were extended slightly towards Al, looking like she wanted to pluck Al right from Roy and drag her sons away from him, which seemed more than fair. Al had to look like he was offering himself to go in Ed’s place to the base, so soon after Ed returned. Though Roy had no intentions of separating this child from his mother _at all_ , panic rarely lent itself to rational thinking.

“Th-thank you…” Al sobbed into Roy’s knees. “Y-you brought b-brother home. I d-didn’t think that I’d see him e-ever agaaaaaiiiiiin…”

“Well…” Roy said, nervously lowering his hands to muss up Al’s white locks. “W-well of _course_ I brought him home. I’m not a _total_ monster.”

 _Not true_.

He ignored the feeling of Tyesha and Lana’s eyes on his back, ignored the way that they stared at him and judged his answer. They, of course, thought differently, but Al had no reason to fear him; at least, it would do him no good to tell him that he should be afraid.

Al sobbed a little laugh, smiling into his knees when Roy crouched a little lower and tugged him into his shoulder awkwardly. “Thank you…”

Roy glanced nervous eyes now up to Tyesha, who looked ready to pounce and protect, and Lana, who was reaching to Ed to tug him close, farther away from the Amestrian. “You know,” he said softly, partially to Tyesha but mostly to Al. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Ed. You’re really important to him.”

Al sniffed and peeked up out of Roy’s shoulder, looking to him with interests piqued.

“ _Oh_ yeah. You were practically what kept him going all this time. Lucky he had you or he might not have made it!” Not the entire truth, but it wouldn’t be the first time Roy stretched the truth for something minor.

Al laughed again and wiped his eyes. Very quietly, he said, “I like you. You’re nice.”

 _Not sure about that one._ At least, many of his grade school classmates may beg to differ; most had thought him too quiet and stuck up. “I like you too,” he said instead. “But why don’t you go talk to your mom; she looks like she’s gonna have a heart attack.”

Al stepped out of his arms and looked up to his mother. He wiped his face on his shawl and went to her, burying his face in her dress to mumble “morning Mama.”

“Good morning, my moon,” Tyesha said softly, scooping Al into her arms and turning him artfully away from Roy. Roy smirked to himself, glancing down toward the other boy half in Lana’s arms. Ed smiled at him hugely but didn’t say anything. “Did you nap well?”

“Yes, Mama. Myma Charisa read to us the _Maqada_ and I think I dreamed about _Iqoda_.”

 _Iqoda_ . That was a name Roy didn’t know. He assumed it was a story from the _Maqada_ , one of the Ishvalan holy books, but it hadn’t enough significance for Heathcliff to even mention the name.

Still, the way that a lazy smile drifted over Tyesha’s soft face made him think that the story itself was a good one.

“What a wonderful thing to dream of. If not for your Papa, I think we’d have named you Iqoda,” Tyesha said, eyes so soft. Al laughed, and Roy wasn’t sure if it was meant to be a joke, so he forced back a smile at the cheerful little noise.

“Is Myma Charisa still here?” Ed asked his brother quietly, then directed the question to Lana in Ishvalan when Al didn’t answer. Lana said something, then nervously released him and wandered down a hallway, probably off to find Myma Charisa. Ed dug into the pocket of his shawl and turned a big grin up to Roy.

Only a few moments later, Lana returned with another woman on her arm, who walked along with a slight limp in her left leg. She wore a chaste dress to her calves, the color of the sea, with a white shawl over her shoulders. She spoke in Ishvalan to Lana, then stepped around the napping children and crouched before Ed.

“Well if it isn’t a brave little boy returned from the dead.”

“I didn’t _die_ , Myma Charisa,” said Ed with a laugh. “Ishvala didn’t want me to yet.”

“She has got big things in store for you,” the woman agreed with a smile.

“Uh huh,” Ed said. He laughed when she pulled him into a brief hug, then he took her hand and tugged her over to Roy. She stumbled a little—with her limp, rising seemed to be a challenge—but made it to him without consequence.

“Sa—“

“Myma,” Ed interrupted Roy’s greeting, pulling a scrap of paper out of his pocket. “This is my friend Roy. He helped me get all the way home from Amestris. He—found this. It’s yours?” He extended the paper, and when Ed flipped it up, Roy recognized the photograph he had found the other day. He had nearly forgotten that, but Ed _had_ mentioned something about a neighbor, now that he thought about it.

Charisa took the photograph, looking it over quietly. It didn’t take more than a few seconds for her to gasp, grief flying through crimson eyes, and brush her fingers along the faces of the Ishvalans inside.

“You must have gone to Mama’s house,” Charisa mumbled. “Mine—we had to leave it behind. When we left Askia. I never thought I’d see it again. I thought… that it was gone for good. _Shalat… nuhnkt…_ ” She lowered her face to the photo and touched it to her forehead, stewing in reverence for a short while. They watched her—Lana, Tyesha, and Roy—each feeling her grief and mourning. Roy was under the impression she was the sole survivor of her family.

After a moment, she lifted her head and gave Ed her best smile. “ _Shunaraa jumilaar, Ed. Shunaraa._ ”

“Not me,” Ed mumbled, although the way his chest puffed out said he was soaking up the praise like a sponge. “Roy.”

Charisa lifted her eyes to him, looking him over. She didn’t look afraid—not even in the slightest. Roy thought she was one of the first not to. Instead, a little smile wandered over her face, sad and grieving though it was. She reached out a hand and, much to his surprise, cupped his cheek. The last time anyone had done that was when he had returned home to his aunt to inform her he was being shipped out to Ishval. This felt eerily similar—although when Aunt Chris had done it, she had instantly lifted her hand to gently smack his cheek and told him that she expected him over for supper in a few months so he wasn’t allowed to die.

“ _Shunaraa jumilaar,_ Roy,” she said. Her voice spilled over with all the sincerity in it—like she appreciated this thing he had done above all the terrible things he had done previous. “For the boy and the photo. _Shunaraa jumilaar._ ”

And Roy, who guessed at the phrase but didn’t know how he was meant to respond, simply stammered out “y-you’re welcome. Ed thought we should keep it for you though.”

Charisa smiled and shook her head, mumbling “ _mutadaeo,”_ under her breath. She turned to Lana, and they shared a short conversation, then she hobbled out of the tent, apparently with something in mind.

Roy watched her go, chest tight. He hadn’t expected a single second of what had happened there.

Ed looked up to him, then quietly said, “she’s going to the temple to pray for their safe ascent to Ishvala.”

Roy just nodded, lifting a hand to rest on Ed’s messy hair. All of that had been very… bizarre. But it and the child at his hip reminded him why he had wanted to join the military, to do good for this world. For the most part he had utterly failed, he had brought so much pain and death on this world and especially this people, but every little bit of good he could do was a tiny step in the right direction.

Tyesha finally made a wordless noise, gaining their attention, and said, “let’s let the children rest. Lana said some of your friends are outside, yet, Ed, should we go see them?”

Ed’s eyes lit up like a flame, nodding his head aggressively. “Roy, watch us play _toqar_! So you can play with us next!” He seized Roy’s hand and dragged him out of the tent, calling “bye, Myma Lana!” over his shoulder. Tyesha scooped Al up into her arms and followed, more than a little nervous. Roy didn’t feel her eyes leave his back until long after Ed found his friends and released him.

* * *

 

Toqar, Roy decided, had no rules, or if it did, they were never agreed upon by any of the players and _certainly_ were never written down. At least the players seemed to be having a good time, but that was all that Roy could make sense of it.

Roy determined at some point that hitting the _toq_ —the ball—against the tents at certain times gave an amount of points determinable possibly by passersby. At one point he thought that the number of points was determined by how the ball was hit, or with which part of the body, but that theory was quickly chased out. He figured it was a game for the players anyway.

All of whom seemed to be under ten, so Roy had no intentions of joining them—even if he was welcome.

So instead, he watched the game unfold, listened to the laughter of little boys and girls chasing their worries away by chasing after a red rubber ball, and tried to ignore the presence hovering just behind him.

Tyesha had hardly turned her gaze from him for more than a minute at a time. Roy didn’t blame her. She didn’t believe her son that Roy was a good Amestrian and would not hurt them, but Roy thought that if she _did_ believe him, with so little proof, that would be rather stupid on her part. He didn’t mind being the subject of scrutiny considering all that he had done to the people of this land. More adults had gathered behind him and were openly sneering, saying nasty words in Ishvalan that he could somewhat translate, before wandering off to perform whatever duties they may have had.

One of the kids whooped in her play and kicked the ball. If not for a well placed dodge, Roy thought that Al may have lost his head. Tyesha didn’t seem to worried about it, but that didn’t stop Roy from nearly rising to check on the boy.

“You act so noble.”

Roy turned his head to look up to her instead. Tyesha’s crimson eyes bored into his own, leaving no room for excuses, only truth. Instead, he turned his eyes to the sand. “I don’t… know what you mean.”

“You brought my son back,” Tyesha said at length. “You speak Ishvalan—disjointed and jaunty though it is—and you use our communicates. You pretend you’re so respectful, you act as if you want to help us—but as soon as we let you go, you’ll turn around and murder us all.”

“I don’t—”

“Do you think we don’t know who you are?” Tyesha spat. She kept her voice low so the children wouldn’t hear them sharing a conversation. “Do you think we’re so foolish? No. We see it in your eyes, _Flame Alchemist_. Your eyes do not tell the story of a good person.”

Roy turned his face further from her, self-loathing churning in his belly. He deserved everything she was about to say, every sharp reprimand. He deserved far worse than that.

“Not even a word,” Tyesha snapped. She dug the toes of one foot into the sand and kicked some up—not _necessarily_ at him, but not necessarily _not_ at him. “And what of my son?”

Ed laughed and dove for the ball, hoisting it into the air triumphantly, only to be caught by the ankles and knocked to the ground. He got a mouthful of sand, but bravely spat it all out and went back to his game, adult conversation far from his mind.

“What of him?”

“Does he _know_ ?” Tyesha demanded sharply. “About you? About what you are, what you’ve _done_ ? _Flame_?”

Roy closed his eyes and lowered his head further to the sand. “...No. I never told him.”

“And why _not_? You had plenty of time; five days wandering in the desert like that.”

He didn’t correct her, didn’t tell her how long it took him to decide that an abused child had had enough. “It never came up.”

“Never came _up_ ?” Tyesha barked a humorless laugh and lifted her eyes away in disbelief. Shame radiated off of Roy in waves. “It never came up that the man my _five-year-old_ Ishvalan child traveled with is the same man who has killed _hundreds_ of his own people?! That never came up?”

“N—” Roy swallowed saliva in the hopes of wetting his dry throat, which was doing a spectacular job of getting worse in the desert heat. “No. I—I couldn’t.”

“Don’t you think he _deserves_ to know that? He likes you already, you know. Ishvala only knows why. You’re going to hurt him a lot worse when he finds out the truth.”

“I… I know.”

“You just don’t care, do you? You Amestrians, you don’t care _who_ you hurt. It’s always the same.” Tyesha turned her head to the side and bunched up her nose, sounding so incredibly unamused that she didn’t know what she was meant to do with it all.

“I needed him to trust me,” Roy said, so low that he didn’t even know if she could hear him. Didn’t really know if he wanted her to hear him.

Tyesha took a few extra seconds to respond. After a few moments, she turned her head back to face him and watched him. “...What?”

“He was afraid.” Roy recalled the day that they stood looking down on Hubard, when Ed had asked if he thought the Flame Alchemist was there. “Of the Flame Alchemist. Of _me_. I didn’t want him to be… so I told him that the Flame Alchemist was far away.”

Tyesha’s eyes narrowed a little, but she said nothing.

“If I told him, I think he’d have run. I really do. And if he had… we wouldn’t have made it here. I know that for sure. I know it wasn’t right, I know it was cowardly, but if we were to get here, he couldn’t be afraid of me. I needed his trust more than anything else.”

“And why _do_ you want to get here so badly?” Tyesha asked, disbelief miscoloring her tone. “You said he belonged home, but it can’t be as simple as that.”

“Maybe it is,” Roy said, tossing her a bland smile. When she simply flattened her expression and gave him an expectant look, he said, “none of it was right.”

“None of what?”

“What they were doing!” Roy said, sitting up fully and looking up to the sun. He could feel his cheeks burning a little; he was sure to get a sunburn if he ever got home. “To him! To _all_ of you. I joined the military to help people goddammit, not kill a bunch of innocent _civilians!_ ”

Tyesha took a hard step back, looking him up and down as if perceiving his threat level.

Roy quickly lowered his head and sobered his voice. The kids had stopped playing, watching him. When he didn’t move after a while, they went back to their game, a few steps farther away from him.

“So why didn’t you stop?”

Roy didn’t say that he, in every way he was the youngest State Alchemist in history, in every way he had blown the record for the exposition portion of the exam out of the water, he had not thought that an option. He was a dog, so doing as his master asked was no question.

Tyesha fell silent for a moment, hearing an answer though he didn’t honestly provide one. Then she took a few steps forward and fell to her knees in the sand so they were right beside one another. “If you don’t tell him, I will,” she warned to start. It was half a threat, and half… it sounded almost as if she was apologetic.

Roy grunted nervously, eyeing her. Waiting.

Then, after a moment of anxious silence, she lowered her head to look to the sand and said “still, thank you.”

To his credit, Roy’s jaw didn't fall into the sand, although it was getting close.

“Th-thank you,” Tyesha said, her voice shaky. “I don’t know what else to say, but thank you. You brought my baby back to me. I didn’t think that I’d ever see him again. That Kimblee man is not a good man, either, in many degrees worse I think, and I thought for certain they would kill him. But you brought him back to me. I know this wasn’t easy for you. I know you didn’t do it of the Amestrians’ approval. But you did it anyway, and I can’t thank you enough for that. Almost… almost every single person here is going to hate you, for what you’ve done. And I do, too. I… hate you, for everything you’ve done to my people. But still… thank you, anyway.”

Roy’s heart clenched, looking her up and down. She didn’t lift her eyes to him. She didn’t say a word more. And Roy wasn’t really sure how he was supposed to respond. He stayed still for a moment, stayed silent. Then, he took a deep breath and scootched over in the sand, until they were shoulder to shoulder.

“He _is_ okay. You would have been proud of how brave he was. He never backed down. I don’t know how your people do things, but if he were mine, I’d have been very proud.” He _was_ very proud, but that was something to keep to himself.

Tyesha nodded, a ghost of a smile crossing her face when she glanced up to him. Her red eyes sparkled, lighting up in a way Roy was certain he’d only seen one another time when he’d made Heathcliff laugh so hard he snorted water from his nose in the academy.

His breath caught for a second and he quickly averted his eyes. She wasn’t supposed to look like that, and _certainly_ not at him.

Before Roy could think to respond, though, there was a rush of commotion, and hurried footsteps behind them. The two of them spun their heads around to watch as a group of burly looking men darted from the general direction of Aishoa, towards Askia’s square. Roy and Tyesha split a nervous look. Tyesha rose to her feet and followed. If Roy had been anymore welcome in this community than he was, he would have to.

So instead, he waited.

There was another group that came in just a few moments later, this time from the opposite side of Aishoa. They seemed even more rushed—even more burly, too. These must have been guards of some sort, so what would have them so spooked?

Roy was afraid to find out.

Sure enough, Tyesha soon returned with her eyes on the children. Fear was lit up in them, casting her face in shadows. “There are Amestrians!” she gasped, coming to a stop behind Roy, in and amongst the group of nervous adults who were gathering since Roy was now sans babysitter.  “Near the sanctuary, and by Optomolus’ Dune. We haven’t heard anything from the Southern Guard, but the Elders fear that they may be coming from that way too.”

The Ishvalans all looked particularly alarmed. Roy wasn’t sure where either of those places were, but he trained his face to be alarmed like they were—only half false. How far were those places from Aishoa? How long would it take the Amestrians to arrive?

“Where?”

Tyesha started when he spoke and glanced his way. She didn’t take the time to look affronted, instead waving her hand in two general directions, east and north. “About twenty miles either way. They’re close. But they’ve… they’ve stopped. The scouts think they set up camp out there.”

“They’re going to attack,” Roy said, quietly enough that no one else seemed to hear. He vaguely remembered a plan, on the general’s desk when he stole a map of the area to bring Ed home. Four companies of soldiers stationed in the four cardinal directions of the target would come together as a swarm—trap them in and outnumber them.

And now that he thought about it, he _did_ remember the name ‘Aishoa’ on that plan. Aishoa, and the people of Askia, was the next target of Amestris’ merciless crusade.

Come noon tomorrow, Aishoa was sure to fall.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the wait. I don't have much of an excuse--life, I guess? Once this semester is done and Christmas season is over with, hopefully updates will come sooner.  
> Thanks for your patience.


	12. Chapter 12

It wasn’t much longer after that that they were met by another small group of Askians, who reported seeing the scouts of the Southern Guard come storming into camp with terrible news on their lips. They didn’t hear what was being said, but it wasn’t hard to make a guess. 

Only a short while after that, a sound like a foghorn pierced through the camp, and dread filled the faces of the Ishvalans. The little ones stopped in their games, and anyone sitting stood. Tyesha glanced back at Roy and jerked her head back toward the square. She put out both of her hands, and Ed and Al instantly zipped to her side, hooking their hands in hers. 

Whatever that sound was for, it was nothing good. 

The Ishvalans chattered as they went quietly and nervously toward the square. They all seemed to know that something was very wrong, and Roy couldn’t fight back the feeling in his gut that that was true. 

Once they breached the square, everyone gathered around the elders’ tent, where Elders Sonra and Jihora stood on a soapbox, standing tall despite their old age and frail stature. Ishvalans were gathering from all around Askia, all hailed by the sound. 

Once they were gathered, Elder Sonra held up his hand and the crowd quickly hushed. 

“We have terrible news,” he said, quickly followed by the woman nearby speaking in Ishvalan. 

The low murmur permeated the crowd, sick and afraid. When Sonra put his hand back up, the crowd fell silent, shifting with unease. 

“The Amestrians are in Askia,” Sonra went on, head high, eyes nervous. “They’ve made it to the Sanctuary between our towns. Not only that, they’re coming at us from Harar to the north and Optomolus’ Dune to the west. There are forces marching from the east as well. They have us surrounded.”

Loud gasps echoed, frightened cries shot up. Mothers clung to their children, husbands to their wives, all wanting to protect them from the merciless monster that was the Amestrian soldiers. 

“What’s worse,” Elder Jihora went on, “they’ve brought State Alchemists. They intend to execute us.”

“Do they have the Flame?!” called one ignorant woman on the opposite side of the crowd, who didn’t know who their visitor was. The fear thick in her voice turned Roy’s stomach. 

Much to his relief, no one who had seen him spoke up. They all stayed strangely quiet. Maybe they had forgotten about him. Or maybe they didn’t want to make their people more afraid than they already were.

“...No,” Elder Sonra said after a beat. “We cannot tell, but they don’t appear to. But they brought the Hell Demon—the Crimson.”

An uneasy shifting moved the crowd. The Crimson was undoubtedly worse than the Flame was—but somehow, that wasn’t much of a comfort. “Better than Kimblee” wasn't exactly a difficult thing to be. 

“...So what do we do?” someone asked, a few bodies over from Roy. He glanced over, but couldn’t see their face. “How do we stop this?”

Elder Sonra opened his mouth to respond, but didn’t seem to know what to say. He paused and looked all around at his people, took a few deep breaths, then said, “we’re about to try to think up a plan. Warriors and priests, with me. Ishvala may have an answer.”

The crowd murmured nervously, glancing between one another as some stepped forward to think up a plan. It was painfully few people who did step forward, so few that Roy’s stomach knotted. Most of the warriors had already gone off to the battlefield to be killed. Though there seemed to be at least many priests stepping forward, most of them looked like their position—should it come down to it, and their people needed to be protected, they would not do well. 

Not that Roy doubted that they would fight, but warriors and priests were trained in different things, and fight or a tactical retreat was not one of the things that priests would be skilled in. 

Not like Roy, who had taken multiple classes on such subjects. 

His mouth went dry as the crowd thinned out. Elders Sonra and Jihora were stepping back into their tent, followed by their warriors and priests. Someone pushed past him, most gave him a wide berth. Tyesha didn’t leave him alone, but that was to be expected. She stood, watching him, looking nervous, anxious, and frightened with her children at her sides. 

“Come on, Amestrian,” she finally said after a moment. “We should probably… pack  _ something _ .” Like she didn’t know what else to do, like she had to keep herself busy or she didn’t know  _ what _ she’d do. 

His heart clenched again, glancing back to the tent. These people may not know how to save their own people. He didn’t doubt that they knew the area and their own people, but that could only get them so far. He could help. 

“...I need to get in there.”

“ _ What?” _ Tyesha looked absolutely appalled, dropping her sons’ hands to storm forward. “What in Ishvala’s name would you have to do in there?”

“I graduated top of my class in the Academy. It’s not…  _ encouraging _ , I’m sure, but I can help.”

“ _ Help _ ! If you honestly think I’ll let you in there to  _ help _ , you’re mad as a—“

He looked her right in the eyes, ignoring everyone else. She came to a pause, sucking in a breath between her teeth. “I need  _ you _ to trust me. I brought Ed here, safe and sound.”

Her eyebrows met in the middle, glancing between him and the tent behind him. “...If you try anything—”

“ _ All _ I want to do is help.”

There was silence for a moment. Tyesha squeezed her eyes shut and waited, thinking, then opened red eyes and glanced to the sand. Her fists clenched hard, then she lifted her eyes and glared at him hard. “I know you don’t believe, but Ishvala curse you if you try anything unsightly. Let  _ alone _ the force of my foot.”

Roy forced back an amused smile, knowing the threat—both halves—was completely serious. “I know.”

Tyesha sighed and pushed a breath out of her nose. She muttered something under her breath that, from the sound of it, was colored with disbelief, then she turned to the tent and said, “if you go, I go.”

Roy nodded and turned to follow. 

As did two sets of steps. 

Tyesha and Roy both paused, glancing down to the boys behind them who were fully intent on following. Roy had forgotten that they were there, honestly. 

“We’ll help too!” Ed chirped, hand wrapped in Al’s sleeve. “We’re smart.”

“I—no, boys. You can’t come in.”

“But why  _ not _ ,” Ed demanded. “Al’s gonna be a priest!”

Roy pitched his brows and glanced to Tyesha. Al was nodding furiously, while Tyesha rolled her eyes.

“Maybe,” Tyesha said, crouching. “And maybe, Ed, you’re going to be some sort of scholar like your uncle. But neither of you are yet. This is an adult conversation.”

“I’m practically all grown up! I was in the desert for  _ three whole days _ , just me and Roy!” 

“It’s not the—”

“Mama, we  _ wanna _ help,” Al begged, red eyes taking on a misty quality that Roy was pretty sure was almost entirely faked. 

Tyesha sighed, well aware that her children were a pair of stubborn brats. She glanced up to Roy, as if saying  _ you were with him, what do we do with them? _

Roy wasn’t really a ‘kids’ kinda person. He wasn’t that good with them; it was a miracle that he and Ed had gotten along most of the time, and Roy figured that was mostly from desperation. How would he know? He only had three days’ worth of knowledge of Ed, anyway. That he was a big brother and liked to help, that he liked being the one ‘in charge’ of the kids. That he  _ hated _ being called short…

“I have an idea.”

Tyesha cocked a brow and stayed silent. 

“You know what would be  _ really _ helpful, boys?” Roy said. “We’re gonna have a lot of scared moms and dads around here, who are going to be trying to get ready to handle something they’re not prepared for. They  _ really _ don’t need all those kids to trip over. Do you think you could help out, and keep an eye on all those little kids? You did say you were a great babysitter.”

“And I am!” Ed agreed, flashing Tyesha big eyes. 

Tyesha tapped her chin animatedly as if in thought, pursed her lips, and slowly started to nod. “You know, I think that’s a great idea. Those kids are going to be very scared too, so don’t leave their side, okay? They’ll need both of you to help them. Can you do that for us?”

“Yes, Mama!” Ed and Al chirped. They turned around, waved goodbye, and darted off the way they had come.

Tyesha stood and dusted off her knees, splitting a brief look with Roy before quickly turning away. “Let’s do this, then.” She strode quickly toward the noisy tent and pushed her way in, leading the way. 

You’d have thought that Roy had threatened to kill them all right then, with how quickly all of the Ishvalans reacted. The warriors pulled out pistols that Roy hadn’t even known they had, while a few priests extended knives or grabbed hold of an idol. Roy put his hands up to show he had no weapons, while Tyesha went about hushing them. 

The elders, near the head of the tent where he had first met them, just eyed him cautiously, waiting on something that Roy wasn’t sure he could provide. Roy glanced to them, then turned his eyes to the cautious crowd. 

Then, Elder Jihora cleared her throat loudly and a little obnoxiously. The Ishvalans all fell still, but they did not lower their weapons and they did not turn away. 

“Let the man enter,” said Elder Sonra, voice loud over the silence. “He’s come to us for a reason.”

“Yeah,  _ Flame _ ,” spat one of the priests, a young woman holding a dagger. “Here to kill us all, aye? Defend your country against the ‘evil’ of our existence?”

“Reyona,” Elder Jihora scolded. But there was a look in her eye—one that said she was curious about his answer. Like she had scolded Reyona through force of habit and still wanted to know what he was thinking—probably prepared to judge his character against it. 

“...I want to help.”

“Yeah,” spat a warrior with huge shoulders who definitely looked like he would strangle Roy without a second thought. “Help  _ yourself _ , and  _ your people _ , win this war. Why else would you be here?”

Roy didn’t know how many times he had to explain ‘bringing one of your own people home’, although he figured it was a fair question. He hated to call it annoying, because he was their sworn enemy and had killed hundreds of their own people, but it was a tad obnoxious. 

He shook himself out mentally. That wasn’t  _ fair _ . Considering all he had done, he deserved to have to explain himself a hundred thousand times.  _ More _ , in fact. He should. 

“Because none of this is right.”

It had worked on Tyesha so maybe—just maybe—it would work on these war-torn people, too. 

Another of the priests, an older fellow whose chin was framed with thick wrinkles, snorted so hard it sounded like it hurt. “If only you had realized that a few months ago.” He turned his head away, looking to his elders, and said “he’s Amestrian, he cannot be trusted. We should throw him out as bait!”

“They won’t stop for one traitor,” Tyesha suddenly interjected. The scowls suddenly sent her way startled Roy, and Tyesha as well. 

“ _ Traitor _ ,” said another priest, small and fresh. “He came here to spy, and that’s that.”

“I’m not here to  _ spy _ , I just wanted to bring Ed—”

“An excuse! Thought up by the Amestrians!”

The tent was soon lit up with angry eyes and loud voices, everyone talking over one another. Roy and Tyesha shared a nervous glance; they seemed to be thinking along the same line. These people were all afraid and just wanted their voices heard in case their thought, their idea was the one to save them. They had every chance of being true. 

The problem was, they didn’t have  _ time _ . Roughly three o’clock in the afternoon, if Roy was to guess, and dawn tomorrow did  _ not  _ leave much time to make a plan and then safely execute said plan. Especially when the tactic of the other side was to squash any possibility of escape. Their plan had to be  _ perfect _ , or it would risk the lives of hundreds of Askians and Aishoans. So the more time they spent working on this plan, the better chance they had of seeing it safely through. 

Elders Sonra and Jihora seemed aware of that, the way their eyebrows pierced their hairlines and their aged eyes searched the crowd. For the first time that Roy had seen, they looked  _ uncertain.  _ They were faced with the imminent destruction of their closest friends and neighbors, and the way it was going, there wasn’t a solution. 

Roy didn’t have one, not yet, but if they worked together instead of arguing between one another over who was and was not a traitor, then they stood a better chance of thinking one up. 

_ You’re going to regret this _ .

Like a cadet fresh out of the academy, having just had drills and formations drilled into his head and, above all else,  _ respect respect respect _ , he snapped to attention, opened his mouth, and snapped, “ _ ATTEN-HUT! _ ”

It was definitely the last thing that any of the Ishvalans were expecting to hear, and he was probably the last person they expected to hear it from. Poor Tyesha, not even a whole step away from him and so getting his loud military voice right in her ear, started hard. Everyone else silenced like a wave, fanning out. Some weapons turned on him, but all heads did in the meantime. When he made no move, the weapons lowered. They were curious.

“ _ Listen! _ ” he said. Ishvalan faces blurred to pale Amestrian, and suddenly he wasn’t a prisoner of war, he was a major speaking to his company. “We’ve got a lot of people to move and not a lot of time to do it, and infighting is only going to slow us down! Regardless of who’s Amestrian and who’s Ishvalan, we all share the same goal, so let’s make up a plan so you have the breath to kick my ass later!”

The silence was deafening. No one knew quite what to say. One older woman opened her mouth with protest in her eyes, so he shot her a hard look and the fight quickly fled. She thought better of her words, and lowered her hand and eyes. 

Elder Jihora glanced around, then nodded at him her vague appreciation. “Thank you, Mr Mustang of the 414th. Much as we may not like it, the Amestrian has a point. We’ll be sharing our plan with the Aishoan elders, and we’ll try to move them, too. Which means we don’t have much time. We need our thoughts put to ideas—not to petty arguments. Now, Mr Mustang, since you’re here, maybe we can use you—“

Roy nodded; that  _ was _ what he was here for. 

“Do you know what they’re doing?”

Roy nodded again, sharp, hard. But he didn’t even have the chance to open his mouth before the Ishvalans burst into protests. They argued again—this time, they all snarled that he was a liar and whatever he said could not be trusted. Whatever he said was a trap—and that he would lead them right to their graves, but he himself would walk away. One snarled that she hoped his conscience was easy on him because this would ruin him otherwise. Another snarled that he hoped his conscience was brutal because he wanted to see him worse than ruined. 

Elder Jihora cleared her throat again, but the noise went unheard. After a moment of looking increasingly frustrated, she opened her mouth and yelled, “ _ ishbalotes!” _ Which effectively silenced the crowd. “Silence, please.”

There was an uncertain air around the tent, but the silence stayed. Roy wasn’t certain, but he thought she had said something formal—something more like “followers of Ishvala” to address the crowd. 

Then, Jihora turned back to him, her eyes heavy. “My people fear you, Flame Alchemist. Perhaps you can tell us, and help us to soothe our fears and decide what should be done with you. You say you are here to help us, yes? What will you do with us once you have helped us?”

“N-nothing, I—“

“You’d just let us go free? Your people wouldn’t know of us?”

Oh. They were essentially asking if they  _ should _ let him go. From a war’s standpoint, he would say no in a split second, but these people were not Amestrian and did not deal in the same beliefs and understandings of fairness as he and his people.

“...No. They wouldn’t. I’ll… I’ll tell them that you’ve gone east, toward Xing. There are sympathizers there, they’ll believe it, and there’s enough ground to cover that it would take weeks to get far enough for them to realize you didn’t go that way.”

“Where else would we go?” wondered Sonra. “If we escaped the Amestrians instead of fought, where would you have us go, if not Xing?”

“You won’t win if you fight,” Roy said, shaking his head. “There aren’t warriors, here.”

A few haughty scouts and warriors made noises of protests, so Roy quickly continued, “there aren’t  _ enough _ , I mean. Not enough to take on State Alchemists. Certainly no one who could take on the Hell Demon.”

“ _ You _ —“ said a young man not far from the elders. He looked to be of high status around here—perhaps an advisor, or perhaps next in line for the seat of elder. Far as Roy knew, Ishvalans didn’t  _ have _ to be impossibly old to be the village Elder. “You’re the Flame Alchemist. You could take on the Hell Demon. You could take on any of them.”

Roy’s stomach suddenly turned to knots. Fight his own people?— _ isn’t that what you’ve been doing all along?— _ he couldn’t do that. “I can’t… I can’t  _ fight  _ for you. They’d execute me as soon as I stepped foot in camp.”

“So, what?  _ We _ should die so  _ you _ don’t have to?” said a faceless voice. Roy’s stomach knotted again, a little harder. That wasn’t what—

“N-no, I’m just saying you can’t—“  _ fight them anyway _ , but none of them were listening to him. Didn’t they understand how little time they had? They didn’t have the time for these little arguments! He knew that they knew—they had to understand—but their fear was making them more susceptible to panic. Roy couldn’t fault them for that, but if they didn’t get started with a plan soon, they would fall prey to the Amestrians’ attack. 

“ _ What _ , Amestrian,” said a voice over the crowd, and when Roy whipped his head toward it, he found Elder Sonra had located another soapbox—had probably dragged it in from outside. He was looking down on the crowd, but his eyes trained on Roy harshly. The crowd again fell silent at his powerful voice. The elders here clearly had a lot of respect from their people, the way all stirring emotion vanished at their command. Sonra continued with a flash around at his people, as if daring them to speak up, “would you have us do? Xing is a very long way, and I wouldn’t like the Amestrians on my tail. You say that you’ll tell them that is where we have gone, but what safe place is there for an Ishvalan but Xing?”

Roy stopped, feeling himself grow hot as the crowd turned on him. He wanted to say Aerugo, since Aerugo was funding much of Ishval’s fight, but he also knew from reports in recent months from Amestrian embassies in Aerugo, that the Aerugans were doubling their efforts and patrols along their borders—not just the Amestrian one, but the one bordering the Great Desert and, more importantly, Ishval. Much as Aerugo funded their efforts, it was not because Ishval was an ally. It was likely because they wanted to see Amestris weakened, like any other of the Amestris-bordered nations. Sending the Ishvalans to Aerugo may not be a death sentence, but it wasn’t likely that the Askians would be met with open arms. 

So really, there was one other viable option. 

“The East Area.”

Elder Sonra cocked a thick brow at him and frowned deeply. Roy knew what he was thinking—sending the Ishvalans back into Amestris was sure to be a death sentence. 

“I know, it sounds crazy. But the East Area has already been cleared of Ishvalans—” And if that wasn’t a terrible thing to say to a bunch of Ishvalans— “so the military’s efforts there are minimal. Towns in the east are few and far between, so it would be easy to hide groups of you. Maybe not for an extended period of time, and it may mean splitting up into groups, but it could save you.”

Beside him, Tyesha’s breath hitched like it was coated with fear. Looking around, they all looked afraid. And Roy thought they had every right to be. 

“How do we get past the border?” Elder Jihora asked, stepping up beside her husband. “There will be troops.”

“We can get disguises—I can make them for you. Refugees are escaping this war, going back into Amestris—not just Ishvalans, but many from the East Area itself, or living just outside of the old border. You won’t be the first dark-skinned folks either, I’m sure of it. If we can get you into average Amestrian clothes, and maybe touch up a couple things—get sunglasses to cover your eyes and hats for your hair—” which would be easily passable in such a sun-drenched area as the East— “then getting you past the border shouldn’t be hard at all.”

“Great,” a voice spoke up, one that Roy recognized. When he glanced over, he saw Mikahal looking him down, challenging him. “So we have a way to get out of the desert. How do we get out of the  _ city _ ? We’re surrounded on all sides, and I’ll be damned if they let us slip out between Harar and Optomolus’ Dune.  All the planning in the world will do us nothing if we’re too  _ dead _ to execute it!”

There was a sharp wince from everyone in the crowd. Roy included. Mikahal had a point—more than a point. He had a damned  _ sword _ .

“...Right,” he said, and several pairs of curious, anxious red eyes turned on him. “Obviously. There are, um…” Four different units in the four cardinal directions. There would be guards to watch between them—at least, Roy had to assume there would be, for their own safety. Going between them wasn’t an option. They had few warriors—and even if Roy could fight with them, it wouldn’t be enough. Going through them wasn’t an option. If he, somehow, managed to get two hundred or more Ishvalans  _ over _ the troops and headed northwest… well, there was no safe landing, and he had no clue how the hell he’d manage that anyway. Going above them wasn’t an option. 

But going below… below them could be an option. 

“There are…” Mikahal said impatiently. “ _ What, _ Flame?”

“Hang  _ on _ !” he snapped, because he always forgot his place when he was thinking. There was a surge from the nearby crowd as they stepped away from him. He always thought better, faster, and more concisely when he was moving his feet—it was why he liked to walk and talk. He started pacing in small circles, thoughts racing, plans playing and replaying in his head, skin hot and mouth dry but all physical ailments chased away.

He… 

_ He had a plan _ .

Or, something of one, anyway. Sand was malleable, perhaps a little too malleable, but with its properties, he might be able to turn it into stone. With twenty or more miles between them and the Amestrians, they had plenty of space to work with—plenty of  _ sand _ to work with. 

They couldn’t go around, they couldn’t go through, and they couldn’t go above. But… if he could somehow alchemize a  _ tunnel _ … he might be able to get the Ishvalans on the other side of the Amestrian soldiers before they even breached Askia, and with the Amestrians none the wiser. 

This wasn’t just some half-baked plan; not really, anyway. If everything worked right, it was a  _ good _ one. He would have to find a good location, and get a couple depths tested, but he could make this work. He could save the Ishvalans from their fate. 

“Amestrian?” Tyesha’s soft voice pierced his hearing; he’d stopped pacing by then, and the sudden halt had them a little unnerved. 

“What if we built a tunnel?”

A titter passed through the crowd—a nervous whisper, like gossip, sliding in and out of each and every mouth. 

“We won’t build it in time,” Elder Sonra said, eyes alighting on him. He looked unsure, afraid for his people.

“I know—with manual labor, we wouldn’t. But I’m an  _ alchemist,  _ and I—“

“No!” cried more than a few Ishvalan voices. Ishvala and her teachings spoke negatively of alchemy, and the way it changed and shaped her gift, so Roy wasn’t surprised. 

“I won’t go!” called a young woman with new fear alight on her face. 

“Building a tunnel out of sand is  _ suicide _ !” agreed a young man, younger than Roy. 

“The Amestrian will drop it all on us!”

“Ishvala’s creation!”

“ _ Won’t— _ “

“ _ Can you do it _ ?” asked Elder Jihora above all the panic. Her red eyes said more than her words— _ will _ you do it safely, can we trust you, or do you intend to kill us all?

He turned from the frightened citizens to look right at her and hope she could see his emotions from his black black eyes. “I’m an exceptionally skilled alchemist, even from youth. I haven’t worked much with sand, but I should be able to change its properties just a little, and make a tunnel that will stand long enough to get through.”  _ I  _ **_will_ ** _ see this through—see you through—to the end. _

“You can do it in time?” 

Roy dipped his head. “I may need some help, but yes, I think so.”

“...You will have guards on you at all times.”

“I understand.”

“You can’t be  _ serious _ !” snapped one voice from the crowd, that Roy hadn’t heard much from. “You’ll let the Amestrian lead us?! He’ll take us all straight to our death!”

“What choice do we have?” Elder Sonra piped up. “The Amestrian wants to help, so we’ll let him help. If we find out he’s wrong, or he’s leading us astray, we kill him.”

The warriors in the crowd shifted, and Roy was pretty sure the muzzle to a rifle lined with him, but he couldn’t see from where, and he wondered if it was his imagination. 

“You can’t expect us to trust an Amestrian  _ State Alchemist _ ! The Killer of Hundreds, no less,” an older woman crowed. She couldn’t look at him, had her head turned away. Afraid. Roy couldn’t blame her. 

“I don’t—” Elder Sonra said softly, then cleared his throat and said, “I don’t expect you to trust him, but can I expect you to trust  _ me _ ?”

Another titter passed through the crowd, this time nervous. As if trusting the Flame Alchemist was asking too much of them, to put enough trust in their elder. 

For several moments, quiet settled. No one said a word; no one really knew what they were meant to be saying one way or the other. The wind blew against the tent flaps—if Roy had looked, he may have seen a few ears listening in from outside—but that was the only sound. 

“I don’t,” Roy said slowly, to fill the gap. “I don’t expect you to trust me. And I don’t expect you to follow me—into a tunnel, into Amestris, whatever. I’ll take whatever you all are willing to give me. We won’t—we  _ can’t _ —force anyone to come with us if they don’t want to, but I can say that the Amestrians are coming, and… and it won’t be good. It won’t be good. It is one hundred percent up to you, and I can… I can try to build you a structure, or something, to protect you or hide you, but if they have Kimblee—if they have the Hell Demon, they’ll be able to blow through it, I’m sorry.”

Another soft murmur sounded throughout the tent. Not satisfied, especially not with the idea of Roy building them any sort of structure, but not disappointed. Like they were waiting for it all to sink in.

“If you can do it,” Elder Jihora finally said when no noises of protest sounded, this time. “Then yes. Please. Save my people.”

Roy felt both the weight of the world lift off of him, and subsequently fall right back on. He could save them. He could right his own wrongs— _ nothing would _ —and put these innocent people back on the path to a bright future. It was probably his one chance— _ as if— _ at redemption. 

“Then I’m going to need as many clothes as you can manage. And… and someone should contact the Aishoan elders, soon. The more people we know of coming, the better prepared we can be.” 

Mikahal nodded quietly. He glanced to the people around him, pointed out three of them, and spoke quietly in Ishvalan. The three of them nodded, and Mikahal led them out. 

“We’ll want to gather supplies,” Roy said to the elders. “It took Ed and I three days to get here. The way that we go should be mostly clear of troops, but it’ll still be a long trek regardless.” 

“Right,” Elder Sonra said, passing along the information to his people. Another group of them shot nervous glances at Roy, but did as asked and left the tent. 

“I need to survey the surrounding area,” Roy said again, glancing to Tyesha. “If we’re headed northwest towards the East Area, I still need to figure out where exactly to build the tunnel.”

“I can show you the surrounding area. Come on, Flame Alchemist,” Tyesha offered quietly. She turned her head, and Roy noticed that someone nearby tapped her arm and handed her a pistol—just to be safe. 

“Thanks.” He turned to the flaps of the tent when no one else had a word for him, and Tyesha followed quietly on his heel. 

As soon as he stepped out of the tent though, with barely enough room for Tyesha to get out without ducking her head much, Roy came to a halt to avoid tripping. 

A small group of children were crowded around the flaps, staring up at him. Their eyes were all lit up with fear—and even though they had all seen him before, or most of them had, there was more fear in their eyes now than there ever had been. A few of them had backed out of his way when he stepped out.

And there… near the back of the small pack… 

Roy saw each and every last on of his sins, as he looked long into this big crimson eyes. Every single one, and each one felt like a separate slap in the face. His stomach bottomed out and hit the sand. 

Ed stared up at him, more fear in his eyes than Roy saw in any of the other children. Ed’s mouth was fallen open. He swallowed a couple times, then the next words that he let out stopped Roy’s heart right in its tracks. 

“ _ You’re the Flame Alchemist? _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope y'all enjoyed it! I'm not in school this semester, so I should be able to update the next chapter a little faster!
> 
> Have a good day! Please leave a comment letting me know how it went! :)


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